■4089 
B63  S7 


SPEN'CER'S  BOSTON   THEAIILli No.  LX. 


THE    STEWAllD; 


OK, 


FASHION     AND     FEELING. 

IN      FIVE      ACTS. 

ALTERED  AND  ADAPTED  FR03I  TflOS.  ROICROFT'S  «  DESERTED  DArCflTER," 


SAMUEL    BEAZLEY,    ESQ., 

A.CTHOR  or   HOTS   FOR   HUSBAXDS,     IS    HE   JEALOL'S  ?     LOTTEET 

TICKET,     KXIGHTS    OF   THE    CROSS,     BOARDIXG    HOUSE, 

SCAPEGRACE,    ETC. 


ORIGINAL   CASTS,    COSTUMES,    A\D    THE    WUOLK    OF    THE 

STAGE    BUSINESS. 


BOSTON: 

WILLIAM    V.    SPENCER, 

128   Wasoixctox  Street,   (cokxer  of  Water.) 


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(2) 


SANTA  BARBARA 


THE    STEWARD; 

OK, 

FASHION   AXD  FEELING 


ACT   I. 
ScEXE  I.  —  A  Room  in  the  House  of  Mr.  !Mordext.      Two  chairs. 

Enter  Mordent  and  Joxathax  "NVixter,  in  anger,  k.  h. 

Win.  (r.)  "Well,  ziir,  it  doan't  signify  nothing  argufying  the  topic. 
Ize  tell  ye  my  mind.  Discharge  me,  an  you  wull;  I  an't  been  more 
thiui  thirty  years  in  the  family,  'tis  true,  but  that's  long  enow  to  gain 
a  settlement  i'  thirty  parir^hcs,  though  not,  mayhap,  in  one  heart ;  and 
if  ye  wull  be  guilty  of  foul  deeds 

Mor.  (c.  Looking  anxiously  round.)  AVill  you  speak  in  a  lower 
key  r     Recollect,  Jonathan  —  recollect  the  consequence>  of  discovery. 

Win.  I  tell  ye  what  wull  be  the  consequences,  if  I  doan't  discover 
her  Izc  advertise  for  her  i'  the  public  papers  —  ay,  I  wull  So,  now, 
mak'  up  your  mind  to  ha'  your  name  imprinted  at  full  length, 

Mor.     (Terrified.)     Print  my  name? 

IVin.     My  name's  not  Winter,  if  I  doan't. 

Mor.  Nay,  nay,  pray  speak  lower.  Recollect,  my  wife  is  within 
hearing.  The  girl  is  safe,  no  doubt.  You  know  1  did  not  —  I  could 
not  abandon  her. 

Win.  I  doan't  know  what  great  j^eople  may  mean  by  abandon  ; 
but  ye  Mad  nae  acknowledge  her  —  wad  nae  see  her ;  and  wad  ye  ha' 
the  heart  now  to  expose  her  to (Ha/ding  up  his  hands  in  terror.) 

Mor.     What  r 

Wi7i.  Tramp  the  streets,  or,  what  is  as  bad,  to  the  arts  and  -wiles 
of  Old  Item. 

Mor.     The  arts  of  Item  I     What  do  ye  mean  r 

]Vin.  What  do  I  mane  ?  Why,  I  mane,  that  my  mind  misgi's  mc, 
and,  if  I  sec  clear,  some  o'  his  devildom  schemes  do  hang  on  the  lass, 
that's  all. 

Mor.     O,  impossible !  impossible  ! 

Win.  I  tell  ye,  'tis  possible.  And  why  should  you  desart  her, 
forsooth?  Because  she  is  what  'em  calls  a  natural  child:  Now,  in 
my  mind,  to  beget  children,  and  then  turn  them  adritt  to  beg,  steal, 

(3) 


4  THE    BTliAVAUI)  ;     Olt,  [aCT  I. 

or  stan'e,  makes  a  father  a  dral  more  unnatural  than  the  child.  I 
^oan't  know  what  you  may  think,  but  that's  my  humble  opinion. 

Mif.     Would  you  tell  all  the  family  ?  expose  me  to  my  wife  r 

Win.  Ize  expose  ye  tull  the  \\hole  world  if  I  doan't  find  her; 
though,  the  Lord  knows,  it  woan't  be  much  the  better  for  her  if  I  do  ; 
for  it  strikes  me  vary  strongly  ye  are  diced,  and  drabbcd,  and  squan- 
dered, and  mortgaged,  till  yc  woan't  scarce  ha'  change  for  a  thin  six- 
pence ibr  yoursel. 

Mor.     lliis  is  too  much.     You  forget  yoiu*  station. 

Win.  Forget  my  station  !  No,  no,  Maister  Mordent ;  'tisn't  Win- 
ter that  forgets  his  station,  when  he  warns  you  against  the  devildoms, 
as  I  call  them,  of  that  Belzebub  steward.  But  tak'  warning  ;  1  ha' 
toud  ye  long  ago,  and  I  tell  ye  again,  he  ain't  a  bit  better  nor  a  ravcal. 

M)r.  'Tis  false  !  you  mistake  him,  I  tell  j'ou.  If  the  earth  hold 
an  honest  man,  Mr.  Item  is  lie.  In  all  my  difficulties,  where  have  I 
found  assistance  but  from  Item  ? 

Will.  Yes,  he  pretends  to  borrow  the  cash  for  ye,  which  he  lends 
himsel'  ;  and  your  wealthy  possessions  will  soon  be  all  his  own. 

Mor.  Nay,  nay  ;  has  he  not  ever  dissuaded  me,  even  in  your  pres- 
ence, from  the  ruinous  expedients  which  my  necessities  have  obliged 
me  to  adopt  f 

Win.  Yes ;  he  ha'  led  ye  to  a  precipice,  which  he  bags  ye  woan't 
leap,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  pushes  you  down  headlong. 

Mtr.  I  say  'tis  false !  His  truth,  integrity,  and  zeal  are  unex- 
ampled.    (^Crosses  to  R.  H.) 

Win.     Mercy  on  us  !  ye're  bewitched  ! 

Mor.  Winter,  you  drive  me  mad  I  ^\^lat  a  den  of  misery  is  this 
world  !  swaiTning  with  on.e  set  of  fiends,  that  raise  the  whirlwind  of 
the  passions,  and  with  another,  that  beset  and  tantalize  the  bewildered 
wretch  for  having  been  overtaken  by  the  storm  ! 

Win.  Poor  Joanna  !  what  can  ha'  become  on  her  ?  But,  now,  re- 
member, if  I  doan't  find  her,  Ize  keep  my  word. 

Mor.  As  to  Joanna,  wait  patiently  ;  she's  safe.  I  have  done  a 
^•iolence  to  my  own  feelings  as  a  father,  in  depriving  her  of  the  right 
of  a  child ;  but  have  I  not  fifty  times  descended  to  explanation,  and 
shown  you  that  I  must  not  —  cannot  own  her  : 

Win.  Dare  not,  you  mane.  Ah,  maister,  maister !  yc  bogle  at 
shadows. 

Mir.  Shadows  I  Winter,  you  know  not  what  you  say.  The  pub- 
lic clamor  and  disgrace  attached  to  the  discoverA',  the  well-merited 
reproaches  of  Lady  Anne,  for  the  long  concealment  of  such  a  circum- 
stance, the  resentment  of  her  imperious  family,  —  are  these  shadows  ? 

Enter  Mrs.  Saiisnet,  l. 

Mrs.  .v.  What  is  it  you  are  pleased  to  be  talking,  pray,  about  my 
lady,  Mr.  Yorkshireman  ! 

Win.     Troth,  I  ha'n't  a  wnvd  to  say  against  her,  Mrs.  Cockney. 

Mrs.  S.  Against  her!  No,  sir,  my  lady  may  defy  hei  worst  ene- 
mies, though  there  are  folks  ^ho  ought  to  adore  the  very  grovmd  she 
treads  upon,  that  use  her  like  a  Turk. 


SOKN'E    I.)  FASHIUX    AND    KEELIXG.  6 

Mil:  How  now,  Sarsnc-t  ?  Did  your  mistress  bid  you  behave  with 
impertinence  ? 

.1//-S.  S.  She,  indeed  !  Xo,  no ;  your  example  and  commands  have 
made"  her  almost  a«  great  a  rake  as  yourself;  yet  she'd  never  respect 
a.iy  thin;;  ol  that  kind,  if  I  didn't  put  it  into  her  head.  She  bid  me 
always  behave  with  affability  and  decorum  ;  and  so  I  would  If  I  could. 
But  it  would  provoke  an  angel  ! 

Mir.     And  what  is  it  your  wisdom  thinks  so  provoking  r 

Mrs.  S.  To  sec  a  sweet  lady,  that  was  made  to  live  always  in  a 
family  way,  driven  out  lor  to  seek  tor  pleasures  in  routs  and  nonsense ; 
and,  when  at  home,  to  see  her  laugh,  when  she  means  to  en,- ;  then, 
when  some  folks  are  in  sight,  pretend  to  smile,  and  be  all  assignation 
and  contentment,  when,  all  the  wlule,  I  luiow  her  poor  heart  is  ready 
to  break. 

Mir.     (^Siftinff,  k.  c.)     Then  she  complains  to  you? 

Mrs.  S.  (l  )  I  said  no  such  thing,  sir.  Xo,  she  complains  to  no 
Christian  soul,  more's  the  shame  !  I  wish  some  folks  had  a  little  of 
my  spirit ;  othei"  folks,  mayhap,  mut  find  the  difference. 

IVin.  (c.)  Spirit!  Ecod,  you  needn't  tell  us  o'  that,  ^Irs. 
Sarsnet. 

Mrs.  S.  A  poor,  weak  woman,  who  can  only  take  her  own  part 
by  crj-ing  and  fainting. 

H7/(.  Crj-ing  and  fainting  !  Come,  come,  Mrs.  Sarsnet,  there  are 
some  poor,  weak  women  that  ha'  got  tongues  and  nails,  you  know. 

Mm.  S.  Have  they,  Mr.  Suapshort  r  Why,  then,  if  I  had  you  for 
a  husband,  mayhap  I  would  go  for  to  let  you  see  that  I  could  use 
them. 

Whi.     I  dare  for  to  say  as  how  you  would  —  the  devil  doubt  you ! 

Mrs.  S.  It's  a  shame.  Mr.  "Winter,  for  you  to  be  getting  into  cor- 
ners, and  to  be  a  whispering,  and  a  peering,  and  a  plotting,  to  my 
lady's  dishonor. 

Win.  {Aiiffril;/.)  I  plotting  !  Come,  now,  you'd  better  hold  your 
tongue,  Mrs.  Sai'snet. 

Mnr.     Silence  with  you  both. 

Mrs.  S.  You  ought  to  be  quite  ashamed  of  making  yourself  a  skip- 
jack go-between. 

Will.  A  skipjack !  O,  'tis  very  well,  Mrs.  Sarsnet.  You  hear, 
sir,  the  thanks  I  get.     Ye  hear  I  am  a  go-between  ! 

Mrs.  S.     Yes,  yes;  we  know  that  very  well,  Mr.  Winter. 

Win.  But  I'm  not  sic  a  go-between  as  ye,  Mrs.  Malapert,  may 
think  me.  Xo,  no ;  I  ha'  been  a  trustworthy  caterer  to  the  family  ; 
(^fo  Mordent.)  a  slave  to  your  and  your  lady's  routs,  and  your  sup- 
perings,  and  your  dinnerings !  Ye  may  ha'  made  me  your  purveyor, 
but  dora  me  if  any  mon  ever  yet  made  Jonathan  Winter  his  j^ander  ! 

M'lr.     Begone  !     See  if  Mr.  Item  is  returned. 

Mrs.  S,     Ah,  there's  another  ! 

Win.  Skipjack  !  go-between,  foi-sooth  !  Ecod  !  if  yon  war  Mrs. 
Winter,  I'd  teach  yc  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  vour  teeth,  ecod,  I 
would!     {Exit,!..)' 

M>r.  {liiiintj.)  Did  your  lady,  I  say,  instruct  you  to  behave  with 
this  insolence  ? 

1  » 


6  THE    STEVVARU;    OR,  [ACT   I. 

Mrs.  S.  You  know  very  well,  sir,  that  my  lady  is  the  most  impru- 
dent of  wives,  and  would  have  been  better  than  the  best,  if  you  had 
but  let  her  have  had  her  own  way.  She  sent  me  on  a  civil  message, 
and  bid  me  speak  with  properiety ;  and  so,  if  speaking  one's  mind,  and 
telling  the  truth,  be  a  fault,  it's  all  my  own. 

Mor.     I'll  put  an  end  to  this. 

Mrs.  .S.  O,  to  be  sure  !  You  may  tell  my  lady,  and  get  me  turned 
away,  if  you  please ;  because  I  know  very  well,  if  you  bid  her,  she 
A\ill  do  it. 

Mor.  True  ;  she  has  ever  met  my  most  capricious  wishes  w^ith  com- 
pliance; nay,  in  the  instance  of  fashionable  extravagance,  to  which  I 
urged  her  from  my  foolish  vanity,  has  outstripped  them ;  and  I  — 
(Aside.)     O,  Prometheus  and  his  vulture  is  no  fable  ! 

Mrs.  S.  Yes,  yes  ;  I  know  she  will  turn  me  away  ;  but  as  it  is  all 
for  pvirc  love  of  my  lady,  I'm  sure  the  Earl  of  Oldcrest,  her  father, 
will  give  me  a  situation.  He  knows,  mayhap,  more  than  you  may  go 
for  to  think  ;  so  does  the  viscount,  her  brother,  too ;  her  cousin.  Lady 
Hilary,  and  her  uncle,  the  bishop ;  and  every  body  is  not  obliged  to  be 
so  blind,  and  so  good  tempered,  and  so  replying  as  my  lady,  never  to 
answer  a  word,  indeed,  as  she  never  docs. 

Mor.  Ah!  what  is  it  they  know? —  (Aside.)  Can  Winter  have 
betrayed  me  ? 

Mrs.  S.  That's  more  than  I  can  say  ;  but  they  have  all  been  here, 
and  my  lady  desires  to  speak  with  you. 

Mor.  Indeed  !  Tell  her  I  have  no  leisure  —  that  I  am  particularly 
engaged. —    (Aside.)    I  dare  not  see  her  ! 

Mrs.  S.     Ha  !  I  told  my  lady  so  before  I  came. 

Mor.  Begone !  Inform  your  lady  that  I  will  seek  some  other 
opportvmity.  —  (Aside.)  To  what  a  state  of  wretchedness  must  that 
heart  bo  reduced,  which  trembles  at  meeting  the  eye  of  her  it  loves  ! 
Cursed  infatuation  !  to  what  hast  thou  driven  me  !  (Exit,  R.) 

Mrs.  S.  I  prognostified  the  answer  ;  a  good-for-nothing  chap  !  I 
know  as  well  as  any  body  what  is  becoming  of  a  husband.  He  should 
love  his  wife  dearly,  by  day  and  by  night ;  he  should  wait  upon  her, 
and  give  her  her  own  way,  and  keep  her  from  the  cold  and  the  wet, 
and  ])rovide  her  with  every  thing  comfortable ;  and  if  she  happen  to 
be  in  an  ill  humor,  should  coax  her,  and  bear  a  little  snubbing 
patiently.  Humph !  the  fellows  !  what  are  they  good  for  else,  I 
wonder  ?  (Exit,  L.) 


Scene  II.  —  The  Steieard's  Room.     Table  and  two  chairs. 

Item  discovered  sitting  at  tlie  table  examining  accounts,  and  putting 
away  boolis. 

Item.  (Lnug]dng.)  Ila  !  ha  !  ha  ! 'tis  well  —  very  well !  Nothing 
rejoices  my  heart  so  much  as  casting  an  accomit,  when  the  balance  is 
in  my  own  favor.  One  more  deed  signed,  and  the  proud  Mr.  Mordent 
is  in  my  power  !  Till  then,  I  must  still  smooth  my  brow  ;  but  once 
sure,  once  certain,  Item's  turn  will  come,  and  all  his  years  of  anx- 


SCENE    II.]  J:\i3UI0N    AND    rEELI^^a.  7 

ious  lalx>r  shall  be  repaid.  And  who  can  say  it  is  not  right  that  wis- 
dom should  thus  thrive  upon  i'olly  ?  {Patting  boiks  on  the  fuble.) 
You  may  lie  thde ;  you  all  bear  fair  I'aies,  that  maybe  peru'^ed  by 
any  one,  and  do  i  ot  pr>'se;it  one  blot  to  make  the  most  riy;id  inspector 
favU  at  poor  Item.  Hut  you,  {^pahiu;/ o..e  ho >k  in  /li.i  ho.'<  ■iti,)  who 
contaii.  tlie  true  account  of  all  my  honest  and  laborious  gahis,  lay  next 
my  hiart,  tliat  beats  with  pleasure  while  it  hugs  you.  (^Hidint/  the 
book  quick! I/.)     Ah  !  I  hear  somebody  on  the  staia'S. 

Enter  Gkime,  l.  ii. 

{Enierly.)  My  dear  Grime!  I  am  glad  you  are  come.  "Well,  is  the 
deed  prepared  ? 

Griiitu.  Ready  for  sealing.  Mr.  ^lordent  never  examines  what  he 
signs  ;  he  trusts  all  to  you. 

Item.  "We  cannot  be  too  safe.  But  this  other  afTair  —  this  Joanna  ? 
What  have  yru  done  ?     Have  you  taken  her  to  Mrs   Penfold  s? 

Grime.  Really,  Mr.  Item,  she  is  so  fine  a  creature,  that,  when  I 
deceived  her,  I  am  not  a  true  Christian  if  I  did  not  feel  such  a  twinge 
here.     {Touching  his  breast.) 

Item,  There !  Why,  what  have  you  got  there  more  than  any 
■where  else?  A  tM-inge,  indeed  !  Curse  your  twinges!  Is  she  safe? 
Are  you  sure  Winter  suspects  nothing  ? 

Grime.  No,  no ;  I  took  care  of  that,  and  have  made  certain  that 
she  left  no  clew  to  her  retreat. 

Item.  {Joyfully.)  That  is  well  —  that  is  well !  'Twill  do  —  'twill 
do  !  And  so  she  s  a  fine  creature  ?  Item,  you're  a  lucky  dog  !  My 
scheme  succeeds  m  every  point.  And  I  say.  Grime,  the  girl's  hand- 
some —  is  she  ? 

Grime.     Handsome  !     I  can't  say  I'm  a  judge  of  beauty. 

Itt-m.     Do  her  eyes  sparkle,  you  old  rogue  ? 

Grime.     Why,  they  do  twinlde,  to  be  sure. 

Item.     Has  she  ro^cs,  lilies,  a  fine  neck,  round  arms,  ? 

Grime  Yes,  yes,  roses  in  plenty.  But  I  don't  understand  why 
Mr.  Mordent  wishes  to  put  her  out  of  the  way. 

Item.  1  dare  say  you  don't,  but  I  do.  He  has  various  tormentors  ; 
his  wife,  or,  rather,  her  proud  relations,  are  among  the  chief ;  and  he 
dreads  they  shoidd  come  to  the  knowledge  of  this  secret.  But  his 
strongest  terror  is,  of  being  detected  in  having  for  years  disowned  a 
child,  who,  if  now  produced,  ■\^ould  be  his  everliistuig  disgrace. 

Grime.  Does  he  know  that  his  daughter  is  now  in  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Penfold  ? 

Item.  Not  a  word.  His  plan  for  the  present  is  to  settle  lier  in  some 
profession ;  for  this  he  will  bestow  a  thousand  pounds,  which  I  am  to 
expend. 

Grime.     {Signijlcantly.')     Or  keep. 

lirtn.     {Aside.)     Plague  !     I  have  said  too  much  ! 

Grime.     {Aside.)     O  ho  !   a  thousand  pounds  ! 

Item.  That  —  that,  my  dear  Grime,  would  be  a  paltry  motive.  I 
have  others — others  of  more  consequence,  Grime. 

Grime.     {Aside,  R.)     I'll  have  my  share  ! 


8  THE    STEWARD  ;     OK,  [ACT   I. 

Item,  (c.)  Mr.  Mordent  has  bom  all  his  life  squandering,  like  a 
blockhead,  what  I  have  been  prudently  pickinij  up. 

Grime.     And  pretty  pickins^s  you  have  had,  Mr.  Item. 

Item.  {Exult inghj.)  I  have  him  in  the  toils  !  Interest  accumu- 
lating upon  interest,  and  all  in  arrear  !  I  can  foreclose  u]  on  him  when 
I  please  for  all,  except  the  Berkshire  estate ;  and  by  this  second  mort- 
gage, agreeably  to  the  deed  you  have  brought,  equity  of  redemption 
wiD  be  forfeited,  and  that,  as  well  as  the  rest,  ■\vill  then  be  mine. 

Grime.     If  he  had  but  signed  and  scaled  ! 

Item.     "Which  he  shall  do  this  very  day. 

Grime.     ITien,  what  have  you  to  fear  from  Joanna  ? 

Item.     Much  —  very  much  ;  an  action  of  recovery. 

Grime.     How  so  ?     She  has  no  title  —  she  Ls  illegitimate. 

Item.  No,  no  ;  a  la^^•ful  daughter,  bom  in  wedlock  ;  her  mother 
poor,  but  ^'irtuous,  and  died  in  childbed.  Fearful  it  should  injure  his 
second  marriage  with  Lady  Anne,  he  never  produced  the  infant,  but 
told  his  man,  AVinttr,  it  was  a  natural  daughter,  and  by  his  intermission 
secretly  maintained,  and  had  her  educated ;  and  because  this  Winter 
has  got  the  fool's  disease,  pity — pity!  {Laughing.^  Ha,  ha,  ha! 
He  loves  the  girl  so  much,  that  he  has  threatened  to  make  Mordent 
owTi  his  daughter. 

Grime.     To  prevent  which,  he  has  agreed 

Item.  That  I  should  place  her  out  of  Winter's  reach.  But  he  little 
thinks  I  intend  to  make  him  own  her  myself. 

Grime.     You ! 

It-m.  Yes,  I.  To  prevent  her  claims  from  aifecting  my  earnings, 
I  intend  to  vest  the  power  of  recovery  in  myself. 

Grime.     As  how  ? 

Item.     As  how  ■     By  manying  her,  to  be  sure. 

Grime.     By  marrying  her  !     You  !     {Laughinq.')     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Item.  Yg&,  by  mam-ing  her  !  —  { Aside.)  What  the  dl?^^l  does  the 
fellow  laugh  at  ?  —  (  To  Gkime.)  Yes,  by  marrying  her,  Grime  —  by 
making  her  Mrs.  Item.  Ay,  and  I'll  compel  the  proud  Mr.  Mordent, 
and  Lady  Anne,  and  her  proud  family,  to  own,  ay,  and  court  Mr.  Item, 
as  their  relation,  or  Mr.  Item  will  know  the  reason  A\-hy. 

Grime.  Many  her  !  Well,  well,  'tis  a  strange  world  !  But  now, 
Mr.  Item,  give  me  leave  to  say  a  word  or  two  on  my  own  affairs. 

Item.     "To  be  sure,  my  dear  friend  ;  speak,  and  spare  not. 

Grime.     There  is  a  thousand  pounds  you  mentioned. 

Item.     {Asifle.)     Hem  ! 

Grime.  Then  the  premium  on  this  mortgage.  In  short,  ^Ir.  Item, 
I  do  all  your  business  —  stand  in  your  shoes. 

Item.  You  are  my  right  hand  —  the  apple  of  my  eye! —  {Aside.) 
A  hv'pocritical  rascal  I 

Grime.     Ay,  but 

Item.  The  dearest  friend  I  have  on  earth  !  —  {Aside.)  I  wish  the 
earth  covered  him  ! 

Grime.     The  division  of  profits 

Item.  Don't  mention  it.  ^Vm  I  not  your  friend  r  I  shall  not  live 
forever. 

Grime.     No,  nor  I  neither.     Friendship 


SCENE    m.]  FASHION    AXD    FEELING.  9 

Item.     Don't  think  of  it.     You  can't  distrust  me,  the  first  and  best 
friend  you  ever  had. 
Grime.     Fine  words  ! 
Itt7n.     (^Evasively.)    Yonder  is  my  nephew. —  {CaUing.)    Clement! 

Enter  Clement,  r. 

Cle.     Sir ! 

Item.  Fetch  the  title  deeds  of  the  Berkshire  estate  from  my  good 
friend,  Mr.  Grime. 

Grime.     Well,  but 

Item.     Any  time  to-day. 

Cle.     Very  well,  sir.  {Exity  E.) 

Grime.     Once  again,  Mr.  Item 

Item.     {Cal  ing  off,  R.)     And,  Clement ! 

Grime.     I  say,  the  division 

It-'m.     (Listening.)     Hark!   I  hear  Mr.  Mordent. 

Grime.     (Aside.)     It  shall  not  pass  off  thus  —  I  begin  to  know  you. 

It.tm.  I  would  not  have  you  seen  just  now,  my  dear  Grime  !  my 
kind  friend  !     Some  other  opportunity.     Pray  oblige  me. 

Grime.  Well,  well !  —  (^Aside.)  The  next  time  we  meet,  you  shall 
know  more  of  my  mind.  (Exit,  L.) 

Lem.  (Angrily.)  The  rascal  begins  to  grow  troublesome!  — 
(Speaking  i.ff,  loudly,  L.)  Take  care  of  the  step*,  good  Mr.  Grime  !  — 
(III  a  sitbdued  voice.)     I  wish  he'd  break  his  neck  !  (Exit,  L.) 


Scene  III.  —  The  Dressing  Room. 

Enter  Lady  Anne  and  Mrs.  Sarsnet,  e. 

Lady  A.  (l.  c.)  Well,  well,  Sarsnet,  you  have  said  enough 
about  refusing  to  come,  though,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  see  why  he 
shoidd  thus  avoid  me. 

Mrs,  i>.  Ah,  but  I  can  guess,  though.  lie's  ashamed  —  he's 
ashamed  of  liis  neglects,  and  of  his  uupatrimouial  and  disconjugal 
behavior. 

Lady  A.  Well,  if  any  two  people's  foUies  ever  kept  each  other  in 
couiitenance,  certainly  these  of  my  caro-^poso  and  myself  ought  to  do 
it ;  and  happy  should  that  couple  consider  themselves,  where  the  little 
extravagances  of  the  wife  make  her  look  with  good  temper  on  the 
dissipation  of  her  husband ;  and,  vice  versa,  when  the  consciousness 
of  the  husband  makes  him  find  an  apologj-  for  the  innocent  gayeties  of 
his  wife  i  It  is  but  a  roundabout  ^\■ay,  after  all,  of  coming  at  the 
main  point  of  matrimony  —  a  quiet  life.     O  Lord  I 

Mrs.  S.  A  quiet  life,  indeed  !  And  do  you  thmk  one  would  marry- 
only  for  to  have  a  quiet  Ufe  r  Xo,  indeed  I  I've  no  notion  of  a  quiet 
life,  not  I,  my  lady  ;  no  more  had  your  ladyship,  till  Mr  Mordent 

Lady  A.  Stop,  stop,  my  good  Sarsnet  !  Kcmerober,  it  is  a  wife's 
privilege  to  hear  nobody  abuse  her  husband  but  herself. 

Mrs.  S,     Well,  I  won't  abuse  liim,  though  my  tongue  itches  to  call 


10  THE    STEWARD  ;    OR,  [ACT   I. 

him  evcrj-  bad  name  in  the  Roman  calendar.  But  answer  me  one 
question,  piy  lady  :  did  you,  on  a  cold,  nipping  night  in  Novemljer, 
order  me  to  attend  in  my  camlet  cloak  and  slippers,  to  meet  Mr.  Mor- 
dent, only  to  lead  a  quiet  life  after  all  ? 

Lady  A.  {Ilfsitaiinghj.)  Why,  I  did  expect  something  more,  to 
be  sure  ;  but  then,  my  good  Sarsnet,  those  -were  our  young  days  of  ro- 
mance and  anticipation  ;  then  my  mind  was  Avarni  with  the  over- 
charged description  of  love  and  marriage,  which  I  had  found  in  the 
circulating  library  ;  and  I  pictured  to  mjself  a  man  at  my  feet  for 
whole  ages,  without  considering  we  might  grow  weary  in  the  joints, 
from  continuing  in  the  same  awkward  posture,  and  that  fashicn  had 
rendered  conjugal  attentions  ridiculous.     Heigh-ho  ! 

Mrs.  S.  There,  now,  I  declare  you  scythe  at  the  very  recollection 
of  his  drumstick  duties,  as  you  call  them  ! 

Lacli/  A.  Sigh  !  —  No,  I  didn't  sigh,  did  I  ?  I'm  sure  I  didn't 
intend  it.  (Aside,  ivith  deep  feeling,  for  a  moment.^  At  least,  I  should 
have  thought  that  my  sighs  have  been  stifled  so  long,  that  they  had 
forgotten  the  passage  from  my  heart  to  my  lips.  (  Resuming  her  gay  ti/.) 
And  why  shoidd  I  sigh  ?  The  leader  of  fashion  —  the  envy  of  my 
friends  —  riches  in  my  hand,  and  pleasures  at  my  command  —  uncon- 
trolled mistress  of  my  own  actions,  —  what  wish  is  there  ungratilied  ? 
Am  I  like  Lady  Spendthriit  —  obliged  to  render  up  a  quarterly  ac- 
count of  every  little  expenditure  on  my  person  and  pleasures,  and 
doomed  to  a  monthly  quarrel  upon  paltry  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence  ■• 
Or  does  my  fate  resemble  that  of  \Lts.  Homely,  who  rever  dare  stir  a 
foot  from  her  own  threshold  without  telling  the  how,  the  why,  and  the 
■wherefore,  to  her  jealous-pated  husband  ?  If  my  inclination  led  me 
to  the  farthest  quarter  of  the  globe,  would  Mr.  Mordent's  veto  prevent 
my  excursion  r 

Mrs.  S.  O,  no,  indeed  ;  the  farther  the  better,  I  dare  say.  He's 
always  with  his  companions. 

Lady  A.  And  am  I  not  always  with  mine  ?  If  Mordent  passes  his 
time  out,  do  I  not  see  company  at  home  r  If  he  takes  his  box  of  dice 
at  Brookes's,  have  I  not  my  box  at  the  Opera  ?  If  the  knock  which 
gains  him  admittance  to  his  home  does  not  thunder  at  the  door  till 
three,  do  not  I  jjrevent  the  noise  fiom  disturbing  my  rest  by  not  re- 
turning till  four  r 

Mrs.  S.  "Well,  there  is  some  pleasure  in  being  even  with  a  husband, 
to  be  sure.  But  I  don't  know;  I  hate  this  yea  and  nay  indiflierence ; 
—  I'd  rather  see  you  in  a  passion,  and  a  quandary,  and  all  that ;  and 
it  would  be  better  for  you  to  meet  every  day,  and  quarrel  evcrj-  day, 
and  make  it  up  again  every  day,  like  other  I'cspectable  married  folks, 
than  never  meet  at  all. 

Lady  A.  By  the  by,  did  he  give  no  reason  for  refusing  to  come 
to  me? 

Mrs.  S.  Reason,  forsooth  !  Husbands  never  have  no  reason.  But 
they  do  say  that  he  has  lost  a  sum  of  money  at  play  —  at  Pharo,  or 
Bumniat.  I'm  sure  I  wish  Pharo  had  been  drowned  in  the  Red  Sea, 
along  with  his  namesake. 

.  Lady  A.  His  losses  are  nothing  new  :  in  gambling,  as  with  matri- 
mony, one  must  put  up  with  Fortune  in  all  the  variety  of  her  moods. 


SCKXE    lU.]  1-ASIIIOX    AND    FEELIXG.  11 

Mrs.  S.  Ay,  but  they  do  say  that  he  is  obhged  to  borrow  at  a  mil- 
lion per  cent. 

Lcu/i/  A.  AVell,  then  he'll  pay  it,  and  it  will  be  over.  — But  what 
detained  you  so  long  on  my  message  ? 

J/;-j-.  ^'.  Ay,  ma'am,  that's  what  I'm  going  to  unclose  to  you,  for 
I'm  sure  there  be  other  bad  doings  ;  and,  seeing  my  mjister  go  into 
^Ir.  Item's  room,  I  clapped  my  ear  to  the  keyhole,  and  there  I  heard  a 
whuz-buz. 

Ladi/  A.     What !  turn  eavesdi'opper,  Sarsnet :     This  was  wrong. 

Mrs.  .S.  O,  I  dare  lor  to  say  you  think  so  ;  I'll  be  bound  lor  it  you 
never  put  your  eai-  to  your  keyhole.  But  when  some  people  Avon't  let 
other  people  know  the  rights  of  a  thing,  why,  I  don't  sec,  lor  my  part, 
why  a  keyhole  mayn't  serve  one's  purpose  to  come  at  the  truth.  How- 
ever, I  could  only  catch  up  a  word  here  and  there  ;  and  the  first  was 
summat  about  a  child. 

Lid(/  A.     (^Anxiowilij.)     A  child  ! 

Mrs.  S.  And  a  mother,  my  lady  ;  though,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
where  there  is  a  child,  one's  o'vm.  natural  penetrality  might  tell  one 
there  was  a  mother. 

Lady  A.    Well  ?    (^Anxiotisli/,  yet  repressing  her  curiosity.)    But  no 

—  don't  tell  me  —  I'll  not  hear  a  single  word  more,  and  command  you 
to  be  silent. 

Mrs.  S.  O,  very  well,  ma'am;  I'll  be  silent — I  won't  tell  you  a 
word  about  Mr.  Item's  lathering  the  child.  {Crossing  to  R.) 

L  'dy  A.  ( With  hope  and  pleasure.)  O,  then  it  was  Mr.  Item, 
after  all : 

Mrs.  S.  O,  yes,  ma'am,  but  that  was  all  a  flam  ;  for  my  master 
immediately  after  exclaimed  —  {Lady  Anne  listening  anxiously.)  But 
I  beg  your  pardon  —  I  won't  utter  a  single  word  more,  as  your  lady- 
ship desired. 

Lady  A.     {Pettishly.)     What  did  your  master  exclaim  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Why,  my  lady,  he  called  somebody  a  poor  injurious  girl, 
and  a  prodigality  of  ■\\-it  and  beauty  ;  and  then  I  heard  somebody's 
feet  on  the  stairs,  and  was  fain  tor  to  scamper. 

Lady  A.  {Aside.)  A  child  !  an  injured  gii-1  !  and  I  not  know  of 
it!  How  my  heart  beats  !  —  {Ripressing  her  feelings.)  Why,  one 
would  suppose  that  I  w;is  an  ali'ectionate  wife,  instead  of  the  fashiona- 
ble and  noncha/aiite  Lady  Anne  Mordent  !  {To  Mrs.  Saiisxet.)  Non- 
sense, child  !  you  have  been  deceived  ! 

Mrs.  S.  No,  indeed  ;  I  had  all  my  seven  senses  and  my  eye  teeth 
about  me  ;  for  you  know,  my  lady,  I  love  you  in  my  heart  and  soul ; 
and  it  is  all  for  your  own  good  that  I  Avish  to  prove  my  master  the 
worst  husband  m  the  world,  just  to  spm-  you  up  to  treating  him  as  he 
desei-ves. 

Lady  A.  {After  a  pause.)  No,  no —  I  don't  believe  it ;  upon  that 
point  he  wouldn't  —  he  coukhi't  deceive  me.  If  it  were  so,  he  knows 
my  h.eart  is  not  so  ungenerous  but  that  he  might  have  trusted  me. 

Mrs.  S.     Well,  welJ,  I'll  rummage  about,  and  find  the  particulars 

—  shan't  I,  my  lady  r 

Lady  A.     Why,  if  you  can  by  chance  —  but,  mind,  without  paying 

—  no  keyhole  business  ;  and  then,  if  you  can  just  learn  —  merely  — 


'  12  THE    STEWARD  ;    Oil,  [aCT   II. 

merely  —  whether  you  haven't  mistaken  tlie  whole  matter.  In  short, 
I  am  so  convinced  that  you  are  wrong,  that  you  had  butter  convince 
yourself  so  ;  for  my  own  part,  I  am  utterly  careless  about  the  matter. 
{^Saddenly  assumiiuj  deej)  feeling.)  For  'tis  so  long  since  I  have  reposed 
my  happiness  upon  affection,  that —  (^Resuming  her  gaijety.)  But, 
Lord  bicss  me  !  I'm  becoming  sentimental,  and  shall  be  too  late  for  a 
thousand  calls  I  must  make  this  morning.  So,  order  the  caiTiage  to 
the  door,  that  —  that  —  that  —  {aside,  lier  feelings  ooerpowering  her 
as  she  is  going  out,)  —  that  I  may  lose  my  recollection  in  a  round  of 
unmeaning  visits !  ( lUxit,  n. ) 

Mrs.  S.  She  may  say  what  she  will,  but  I  know  very  well  she  is 
the  most  miscrablcst  lady  alive ;  and  I  could  tear  his  eyes  out !  IIus- 
Dand,  indeed  !  And  so,  because  I  listened  to  the  fellow's  love  and 
nonsense  stuff,  and  took  pity  on  him  when  he  was  going  to  hang  or 
drown  himself,  he  miist  think,  as  soon  as  he  has  got  me  safe,  to  be 
made  my  lord  and  master  !  I'd  tell  him  another  story  !  Aly  lord 
and  master,  truly  !  {Exit,  ii.J 

END    OF    ACT    I. 


ACT  II. 

Scene  I.  —  An  Apartment  at  ^Irs.  Peneold's.     Two  chairs. 

Enter  Lennox  and  Mrs.  Penfold,  b.  h. 

Len.  But,  my  good  Mrs.  Penfold,  do  tell  me  who  this  divine  crea- 
ture is. 

Mrs.  P.     That's  more,  Mr.  Lennox,  than  I  can  tell. 

Len.     But  how  came  she  under  your  care  ■ 

Mrs.  P.  That's  more  than  I  dare  tell ;  and,  I  can  assure  you,  I 
shall  get  into  a  pretty  scrape  if  it  was  known  that  you  had  even 
seen  her. 

Len.  But  that,  you  know,  you  could  not  help,  since  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  at  the  window  ;  what  is  more,  I  have  often  seen  and 
often  followed  her,  but  could  never  before  make  out  where  she  lived. 
Little  did  I  think  she  was  a  protfgde  of  my  good  old  nurse's. 

Mrs.  P.  Yes,  yes  ;  your  good  old  nurse  might  have  waited  long 
enough  for  a  visit,  if  j'ou  had  not  seen  a  young  girl  at  her  window. 

Len.  Well,  well,  I  am  soriy  you  won't  let  me  see  her;  you  are 
right,  I  dare  say  ;  but  I  am  -wrong  to  neglect  one  to  whom  I  owe  so 
much  as  to  my  good  nurse  Penfold  ;  and  I  shall  therefore  redeem  my 
character  by  visiting  you  much  oftener  than  I  have  done.  —  {Aside.) 
Now  to  write  to  Mordent  that  I  have  discovered  my  incognita,  and 
make  him  assist  me  in  getting  her  into  my  power.  He  is  under  too 
many  obligations  to  me  to  refuse.     So,  farewell,  Mrs.  Penfold. 

{Eu:it,  L.) 

Mrs.  P.     Ah,  ah,  Master  Lennox,  you're  a  sly  one,  though  I  nursed 


SCENE    I.]  FASHION-    AND    FEELING.  13 

you  myself ;  and  I  fear  my  cousin  Item  -would  stand  little  chance  by 
your  side.  But  what  can  have  come  to  my  old  avaricious  relation, 
who,  till  now,  has  ever  made  money  his  god  r  Here  he  commissions 
me  to  praise  him  to  her,  and  inspii-e  her  with  favorable  sentiments  of 
him.  There's  some  mystery  in  all  this,  which  I  cannot  fathom.  {^Look- 
ing off,  E.)     Ah,  she  comes  ! 

E)der  Joanna,  r. 

Well,  my  sweet  Joanna  !  but  why  so  melancholy  ?  I  left  you  just 
now  all  life  and  spirits. 

Joa.  (R.  c.)  True,  madam  ;  nature  has  blessed  me  with  spirits  to 
smile  in  the  face  of  misfortune  ;  yet,  sometimes,  the  bitter  remembrance 
that  I  am  disowned  by  my  father — that  there  is  no  hope  that  these 
lips  will  ever  meet  a  parent's  kiss,  or  this  head  receive  a  parent's  bless- 
ing —  will  call  a  tear  into  my  eye,  and  make  my  smilea  appear  traitors 
to  the  feelings  of  my  heart. 

Mrs.  P.  (c.)  Oomc,  come;  forget  such  unpleasant  thoughts: 
what  should  you  care  for  one  who  never  cai-ed  for  you  ? 

Joa.  Ah  !  you  have  never  knowm  the  want  of  a  parent's  smile ; 
you  were  never  abandoned  ;  you  knew  your  father.  I  never  saw  mine 
—  do  not  even  know  his  name.  I  had  a  strange  desire  to  see  him  once, 
and  I  was  denied.  I  am  a  high-spirited  girl,  but  I  would  have  luiell  to 
him  —  would  have  kissed  his  feet  —  and  was  refused.  No  matter. 
(^Dashiiifj  (he  tears  fh>rn  her  etjes.)  I  know  it  is  ungrateful  to  meet 
your  kindness  with  tears  ;  so  thus  I  will  dash  them  otf,  and  try  to  re- 
sume my  smiles. 

Mrs.  P.  That's  right  — that's  right  I  Be  cheerful,  since  you  are 
placed  here  by  a  person  who  is  very  capable  of  making  you  independ- 
ent of  this  father,  who  deserts  you. 

Joa.  There  is  only  one  way,  madam,  in  which  I  wish  to  be  inde- 
pendent, and  that  is,  by  the  exertion  of  the  talents  nature  h;\s  blessed 
me  with.  It  was  the  hope  of  this  which  induced  me  to  fly  from  the 
pittance  my  unkind  father  allowed  me.  The  bread  that  was  not  sanc- 
tioned by  his  affection  I  disdained  to  eat.  But  come,  set  me  to  work, 
and  you  shall  see  that  the  lark  shall  not  carol  his  morning  song  more 
blithely  than  Joanna.  {A  knocking  at  the  (hor,  L.)  Hark  !  somebody 
is  coming  ;  I  had  better  retu'c. 

Mrs.  P.  Do  so  :  should  it  be  the  kind  gentleman  who  interests 
himself  in  your  fate,  I  will  call  you.  There,  go,  and  wipe  away  the 
traces  of  your  tears. 

Joa.  I  will,  ma'am  ;  you  are  very  good,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to 
repay  your  goodness  with  smiles.  (^Exit,  k.) 

Mrs!  P.  I'm  glad  she's  gone,  for  it  may  be  that  rake.  Mr.  Lennox, 
again  ;  and  if  cousin  Item  were  to  lind  any  body  had  seen  her,  he'd 
stop  the  paltry  stipend  he  allows  me,  and  so  often  taimts  me  with. 
(Jjooking  off',  L.)     Ah,  no  —  'tis  Mr.  Item  himself. 

Enter  Item,  l. 

"Well,  cousin  Item 

Item.     Well,  Mrs.  Penfold.     But,  since  you  receive  the  substantial 
2 


14  THE    STEWARD  ;    OR,  [ACT   H. 

benefit  of  our  relationship  in  the  annuity  which  my  kindness  allows 
vou,  I  mu!-t  Leg  you  will  dispense  with  the-nominal  one  of  calling  me 
cousin  —  Mr.  Itein,  it  you  please.  —  {Asiciu.)  I  hope  the  vulgar  wietch 
hasn't  told  Joania  she's  niv  cousin  1 

Mrs.  1\  ^Vell,  well,  cousin  —  Mr.  Item,  I  mean  —  I  will  mind  for 
the  future.  —  {Aside.)    A  purse-proud  lellow  ! 

Iiein.     "Well,  is  Joanna  secure  r  is  she  safe  ? 

Mrs.  P.  Quite  ;  and  I  have  followed  your  directions  in  everj'  par- 
ticular. 

Item.  That's  right.  Then  she  has  seen  nobody,  and  is  prepared  to 
receive  me  as  her  sole  protector  ? 

Mrs.  P.  Protector  !  —  Lord  bless  me  !  I  hope  you  don't  mean  any 
wickedness  by  tlie  young  creature. 

Item.  Wickedness  !  eh  ?  [Lutiffhiiiff,  and  aside.)  lie,  he,  he  !  — 
What  docs  the  old  f  wl  mean  ■  —  (  To  Mrs.  Pexfold.)  No,  no  —  her 
legal  protector.    Have  ye  done  as  I  bid  you  : 

Mrs.  P.  O,  yes  ;  beheve  me,  my  tongue  has  not  been  silent  in  your 
praises. 

Item.  Mrs.  Penfold,  you  are  a  very  sensible  woman ;  and  if  you 
pursue  my  instructions  implicitly  in  this  business,  the  day  that  makes 
Joaiiua  Mrs.  Item,  I  will  pay  you  a  quarter's  annuity  in  advance. 

Mrs.  P.  Mrs.  Item  !  —  So,  so ;  I  thought  something  was  in  the 
wind,  by  your  eyes  sparkling  so. 

Item.  Do  they  sparkle  :  —  That's  foitunate  !  there  may  be  use  for 
them.  I  say,  we  shan't  make  an  unseemly  couple,  shall  we  r  But 
I'm  impatient  ;  fetch  the  giii  —  I  must  lose  no  time. 

Mrs.  P.     (Aside.)     No,  you  can't  afford  it,  indeed. 

//trwj.     What's  that  you  say,  Mrs  Penfold  ? 

Mrs.  P.     That  time  is  too  precious  to  be  thrown  away,  cousin  Item. 

{i-:xit,  R.) 

Item.  "Mr.  Item,  if  you  please,  Mrs.  Penfold.  Well,  now  Joanna 
is  in  my  power,  and  I  am  going  to  commit  that  which  I  have  ever 
denominated  a  sovereign  folly  —  matrimony.  But  with  me  'tis  wis- 
dom—  'tis  a  union  of  interests  —  the  climax  to  my  success.  ( Laur/h- 
ing.)  Ha,  ha  !  'Tisn't  love  and  nonsense ;  and  yet  the  idea  that 
she's  a  fine  girl  has  given  me  a  sensation  here,  that  —  that  —  my  other 
sensations  didn't  kr.ow  what  to  make  of.  But  suppose  she  should  refuse 
me  r  Pshaw  !  I  shall  make  it  her  interest  to  accept  me,  and  that's 
enough  ;  besides,  she  does  not  know  that  she  is  an  heiress.  (Looking 
off,  K.)     Ah,  ah  !  she's  coming  —  a  fine  girl,  indeed  ! 

Reenter  Joanna,  r. 

Joa.     {^Courtesy ing.)     I  attend  your  pleasure,  sir. 

Item.  {Aside.)  I'faith  !  if  I  look  long,  I  shall  forget  the  Berk- 
shire estate,  and  the  action  of  recovery  into  the  bargain.  —  (To  Joanna.) 
Madam  —  miss  —  I  mean  —  I  —  I  —  that  is  —  (Aside.)  Lord  bless 
me  !  what's  the  matter  r  Pooh  !  pooh  !  —  Item,  you  are  a  fool !  —  (To 
Joanna.)  You  are  welcome,  my  pretty  lass.  Mrs.  Penfold  has  in- 
formed you  of  the  interest  I  take  in  your  welfare  —  eh  r  and  how  good 
I've  been,  and  how  good  I  intend  to  be  to  you  —  eh  ? 


SCENE    I.]  FASHION    AND    FEELING.  15 

Joa.  Mrs.  Penfold  has  informed  me  of  your  goodness,  and  I  beg 
you  to  accept  the  wannest  thanks  of  a  p^ratcful  lieart. 

Item.     {Aside.)     I'laith,  she's  charming  ! 

J:)a.     But,  sir,  there  Ls  yet  one  favor  that  would  outdo  all  the  rest. 

Item.     A  favor  !  —  "What  is  it,  my  sweet  girl  ? 

Joa.  Tell  me  who  is  my  father  —  lead  me  to  his  feet  —  let  me  once 
receive  a  parent's  blessing  ! 

Item.  To  your  father  !  No,  that  is  impossible  :  he  has  a  wife  who 
would  spurn  you.  'Twas  his  unkindncss  that  first  interested  me  in 
your  favor  ;  I  tried  to  make  him  own  and  receive  you  ;  and  his  harsh 
expressions  of  the  trouble  and  expense  you  were  to  him  made  me  deter- 
mine to  render  you  independent  of  him. 

Joa.  Trouble  !  expense  !  —  8ir,  you  have  indeed  conferred  an  ob- 
ligation on  me.  Mistaken  parent !  it  was  not  thy  fortune,  but  thy 
affections,  Joaima  coveted  !  But  your  goodness  mentioned  independ- 
ence :  there  is  but  one  way  to  ^^in  it,  —  let  me  work  —  I  will  labor 
cheerfully.  , 

Item.  Work  !  labor  !  No,  no  —  such  hands  as  those  were  never 
intended  to  work  ;  such  eyes  as  those  are  tit  lor  other  purposes  than  iol- 
lowing  a  needle  through  cambric  muslin.  Work,  indeed  !  {Latijh- 
iiig.)     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Joa.  {Asiile.)  What  can  he  mean  r  Surely,  the  old  gentleman  is 
not  in  love  with  me  ! 

Item.  Come,  my  pretty  Joanna,  let  us  sit  down  a  little,  and  talk 
over  your  affairs.  {They  sit.)  I  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  you, 
though,  i' faith  !  when  I  look  in  thy  pretty  eyes,  it  seems  all  to  run 
out  of  my  head. 

Joa.  {With  simplicity.)  You  had  better  look  the  other  way, 
then,  sir. 

Item.  But  I  can't  —  I  can't ;  they  are  the  loadstone,  and  my  heart 
is  the  needle.     I  dare  swear,  now,  you  have  had  plenty  of  lovers. 

Joa.     Lovers,  sir  ! 

Item.  Ay,  young  whipper-snappers,  that  did  not  know  then-  own 
minds.  But  be  careful  of  them  ;  they  don't  know  what  they're  at  — 
there's  no  dependence  upon  them ;  no,  no  ;  you  must  look  to  those 
who  are  a  little  older,  who  are  grown  steady,  and  know  what  they  are 
about  ;  a  man  about  my  age,  for  instance. 

Joa.     About  your  age,  sir  ! 

Item.     Ay,  my  pretty  Joanna.     Do  you  think  you  could  love  me  ? 

Joa.     I  could  love  every  one  who  was  kind  to  me. 

Item.  Every  one  !  —  Lord  bless  me !  that  would  not  do  at  all. 
Ay,  but  do  you  thmk  you  could  love  me  r  answer  me  that. 

Joa.     If  you  were  kind  to  me,  yes. 

Item.     There's  a  good  girl. 

Joa.     I  could  love  you  as  a  father. 

Item.  {Starting.)  A  father!  —  Pshaw  I  I  don't  mean  that.  A 
father,  mdeed  !  But  tell  me  now,  Joanna,  did  you  ever  love  any  body 
in  any  other  way  r 

Joa.     O,  ye-5,  one  person  I  love  very  much. 

Item.  One  !  —  {Aside.)  I  begin  to  be  alarmed.  —  {To  Joaxxa.) 
0  !  a  lady,  I  suppose. 


16  THE    STEWARD  ;    OR,  [ACT   H. 

Joa.     No  —  a  man. 

hem.     A  man  ! 

Joa.     As  kind-hearted  a  one  as  nature  ever  formed. 

Item.  And  wlio  was  he,  pray  :  How  did  you  become  acquainted 
with  him  ?  I  understood  you  had  never  seen  any  body.  "What  was 
his  name  ? 

Joa.     Old  Mr.  Winter. 

Item.  Winter!  — {Aside,  laughing.)  Ha,  ha,  ha! — There's  not 
much  fear  of  him.  I  began  to  be  afraid,  though.  —  {To  Joaxxa.)  And 
I  dare  say  the  old  lady  you  lived  with  used  to  wain  you  against  the 
arts  of  us  men  —  used  to  say  we  were  gay  deceivers,  and  meant  noth- 
ing but  wickedness,  eh  r  and  all  that,  eh  ? 

Joa.  No,  sir,  I  do  not  recollect  ever  being  warned,  except  against 
the  arts  of  one  man,  who,  I  was  told,  would  ruin  me  if  he  could. 

Item.  And  A\ho  was  he,  my  pretty  Joanna  r  I  have  no  doubt  your 
warning  was  a  right  one.  AVho  was  this  one  man  who  would  have 
ruined  you  •     A  wicked  dog,  I'll  'oe  bound. 

Joa.     It  was  one  Mr.  Item. 

Item.     ( Starling  from  her.)     I  —  I  —  I  —  Item  ! 

Joa.  I  understand  he  has  been  the  bane  of  my  poor  father,  who 
has,  for  years,  been  deceived  by  him,  till  he  has  nearly  robbed  him  of 
all  his  wealth.  I  heard,  too,  he  had  designs  upon  me  ;  but  you  will 
protect  me  fiom  him. 

Item.     And  who  told  you  this  ? 

Joa.     Winter  —  the  faithful  Winter. 

Item.     (Aside.)     Curse  him  ! 

Joa.  You  seem  agitated.  Surely,  under  your  protection,  I  shall  be 
safe  from  this  bad  man  ! 

Item.  Safe  !  pooh,  pooh  !  —  (Aside.)  He  shall  trot  back  to  the 
West  Riding  as  barefoot  as  he  came  for  this  !  (To  Joaxxa.)  You 
mustn't  believe  this  Winter  —  he's  a  fool ;  he  has  deceived  you  ;  'tis 
he  himself  that  would  hurt  you  — (Aside.)  I'll  make  the  Yorkshire 
rascal  pay  for  this  !  —  (To  Joaxxa.)  Don't  believe  him,  Joanna  —  you 
mustn't  believe  him.  —  (Aside.)  I  am  too  much  in  a  passion  to  do  any 
good  with  her  now.  —  (To  Joaxxa.)  There,  my  Joanna,  go  to  your 
room  ;  I  will  do  every  thing  that  is  best  for  3'ou. 

Joa.  Thank  ye,  sir.  —  (Aside.)  This  is  very  sti-ange — I  do  not 
understand  it ;  but  the  more  I  look  at  and  hear  of  this  old  gentleman, 
the  less  I  like  him.  (Exit,  n.) 

Item.  Warned  against  me,  and  by  Winter,  too  !  But  I  won't 
be  circumvented  ;  Mi-s.  Penfold  shall  remove  this  bad  impression.  Her 
beauty  has  given  a  double  incentive  to  interest ;  and  force  or  cunning 
shall  accomplish  all  my  schemes.  (Going  —  returns.)  No,  no  :  pru- 
dence, prudence  !  (Exit,  i..) 


ScEXE  II.  — An  Anti-Chamber  in  the  House  ofMoRDEXT.     Two  chairs. 

Enter  Moedext  and  Chetekil,  r.  h. 
Che,     (c.)     Grumble  no  more,  guardy ;  have  done  with  prognosti- 


SCENE    11.]  FASHION    AXD   FEELING.  17 

eating  e^'il :  'tis  all  in  vain.  Your  gloomy  reign  is  ended  :  fun,  frolic, 
dash,  and  adventure  begin.     I  am  at  liberty  I 

Mjr.     (l.  c.  )     Yes,  to  play  the  tool  I 

Che.     I'm  free  —  I'm  alive —  I'm  beginning  to  exist  ! 

Mor.     Like  a  wTetch  at  the  stake,  when  the  Hames  lirst  reach  him ! 

Che.  The  whole  world  is  before  me  ;  its  pleasures  are  spread  out, 
and  I  long  to  fall  on  ;  the  golden  apples  of  delight  hang  inviting  me 
to  pluck,  eat,  and 

Mar.     Be  poisoned  ! 

Che.     {Laughing.)     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Mor.     As  your  guardian,  I 

Che.     Curse  guardianship  !     I  have  been  guarded  too  long  ! 

Mor.     You  are  a  lunatic  ! 

Che.  No,  I  am  just  come  to  my  senses  ;  for  I  am  just  come  to  my 
estate,  high  health,  high  spirits,  eight  thousand  a  year,  and  one  and 
twenty  ! 

M>r.  Youth  !  riches  !  Poor  idiot !  Health,  too  ?  T^Tiat  is  man 
but  a  walking  hospital  ?  You,  boy,  you  —  little  as  you  suspect  it  — 
include  within  yourself  a  whole  pharmacopa?ia  of  malady  and 
mischief. 

Che.     Zounds  !     He'll  persuade  me  presently  I  am  Pandora's  box  ! 

Mor.     So  you  are. 

Che.     Why,  guardy,  you  are  mad  ! 

Mor.  True,  or  I  should  take  the  shortest  way  to  get  rid  of  misery, 
and  instantly  go  hang  myself,  and  quit  a  world  where  wTctchedness 
walks  at  noonday,  where  pleasure  leads  but  to  pain,  and  man  lives 
but  to  prey  upon  his  fellow  ! 

Che.     ^Vhat  a  picture  I 

Mor.     Equal  it  in  accuracy,  if  you  can. 

Che.  Why,  I  am  but  a  young  artist ;  however,  I  can  dash  my  brush 
at  the  canvas  as  daringly  as  you  have  dene.  So  what  think  you 
{rapt uro list ij)  of  mirth,  soags,  and  smiles  ?  youth,  beauty,  and  kisses  ? 
friendship,  liberty,  and  love,  with  a  large,  capacious  soul  of  benev- 
olence that  can  soothe  the  afflicted,  succor  the  {xwr,  he;d  the  sick,  in- 
struct the  ignorant,  honor  the  wise,  reform  the  bad,  adore  the  good, 
and  hug  genius  and  virtue  to  the  heart  ?     {Crossing  to  i..) 

Mor.     Every  feature  false  ! 

Che.  Cm-se  me !  but  I  say  the  likeness  is,  at  least,  as  good  as 
yours ;  and  I  am  sure  the  coloring  is  intinitely  more  delightful. 

Enter  Jonathan  Winter,  ii. 

Tr(/i.  Ize  ganging  aboot  the  business  of  the  poor  lass;  so  if  )e 
happen  to  want  me,  Ize  be  back  in  a  blink. 

Mor.     Go  ^^here  you  will,  so  that  you  do  not  tonnent  me. 

Che.  Ha  !  old  Winter,  my  boy  !  Don't  you  know  that  I'm  of 
age  ■  We'll  make  your  old  heart  warm  in  spite  of  the  frost  on  your 
brow.  We'll  have  all  spring,  summer,  and  sunshine.  Won't  \\g,  old 
Winter  :     Why  do  you  Iook  so  glum,  old  Honesty  ? 

Win.  Old  Honesty  !  Ecod  !  Ye  mistake  the  matter,  young  gen- 
tleman :  I  am  an  old  go-between. 


18  XHii  srLw.viiK  ;  ou,  [act  u. 

Che.     {Laitghiixj.)     Ila,  ha,  ha  I 

Win.  O,  you  may  laugh  !  but  it's  van-a  true,  and  I  begin  to  feel 
it.  A  helpless  child  has  been  cast  iipo'  the  wide,  wide  warld  by  a 
hairtless  laythcr,  and  I  am  a  part  o'  tlie  cause. 

Mor.     IIo\v  dare  ye,  sir 

Clie.     A  child  deserted  by  the  father  ! 

Win.  Ay,  ye  may  ■w^ell  show  the  white  of  your  eyes  ;  but  it's 
true,  for  all  that. 

Che.     Is  he  poor  ?     Is  he  jienniless  ? 

Win.  Ecod !  you've  pratty  nearly  hit  the  mark,  if  Jonathan 
Winter  baint  cursedly  mistaken. 

Che.  Bring  the  child  to  me  —  bring  it  to  me,  old  rueful :  I'll 
be  its  father.     I  never  fathered  a  child  in  my  life  —  I  long  to  begin. 

Win.  AVhy,  ye  seem  to  ha'  ahttle  more  human  affection  than  some 
faythers. 

Mor.     Begone !     Leave  us.  Winter,  as  you  value  my  favor  ! 

Win.  Yes  ;  I'll  go  where  I  towed  ye ;  and  if  I  doan't  hear  of  her, 
ye'ze  hear  o'  me:  that's  all.  [Exit,  L.j 

Che.  Bring  me  the  baby.  Winter.  Zounds  !  how  it  would  delight 
me  to  father  all  the  fatherless  cliildren  in  the  world  !  Poor  little 
dears !  I  should  have  a  plentiful  brood.  And  so,  guardian,  I  want 
money. 

Mor.     What !     To  purchase  destrviction  wholesale  ? 

CAe.  I  have  five  hundred  good,  wicked,  spirited,  famous  projects  on 
hand.  You  have  seventeen  thousand  pounds  of  mine,  hard  cash  — 
I  want  it. 

Mor.     Seventeen  thousand  plagues  ! 

Che.     Eveiy  farthing. 

Mor.     Your  money,  sir,  is  locked  up  in  mortgages. 

Che.  Locked  up  !  O,  damn  me  !  I'll  unlock  it !  I'll  send  honest 
Grime  to  ye  :  he  carries  a  master  key. 

Mor.     Have  you  no  regard  to  my  convenience  ? 

Che.  I'll  pay  the  premium  ;  and  if  you  want  security,  you  may 
have  mine.  I  must  have  money  :  'tis  the  source  of  frolic,  pleasure, 
and  notoriety.  The  world  must  see  me,  hear  of  me,  talk  of  me  ! 
I'll  be  a  patron,  and  a  subscriber,  and  a  collector,  and  an  amateur,  and 
a  connoisseur,  and  a  dilettante  !  I'll  hunt,  I'll  race,  I'll  dice,  I'll  grub, 
plant,  plan,  and  improve  !  I'll  buy  a  stud,  sell  a  forest,  build  a  palace, 
and  pull  down  a  church  !  That's  the  way  to  make  use  of  eight 
thousand  a  year,  my  moody  guardian!  (^Exit,  l.) 

M:)r,  (Cai/in;/.)  Mr.  Cheveril !  He  is  flown!  Why,  ay,  with 
spirits  equally  wild,  wanton,  and  ignorant  of  evil,  I  began  my  career. 
I  have  now  lived  long  enough  to  discover  that  universal  nature  is  uni- 
versal agony.  O,  tliis  rejected  Joanna  !  —  miserable  girl !  Well,  am 
not  I  miserable  too  ?  Who  is  not  ?  The  dangers  to  which  she  may 
be  exposed  !  the  cruelty  of  utterly  abandoning  her  !  Never  shall  I 
again  be  at  peace  with  myself! 

Lnrly  A.     (  Without,  ii.)     Where  is  your  master? 

Mir.  Ilark  !  my  wife  !  I  must  away.  I  can't  endure  to  see  her, 
while  I  feel  that  the  next  moment  may  plunge  her  in  the  pit  I  have 
dug  for  her  !  '  {Exit,  L.) 


SCSNE   n.j  FASHION    AXD    FEELING.  19 


Enter  Lady  Anne,  r. 

Lad'j  A.  ilr.  Mordent !  So,  so,  he  a^airi  avoids  me  !  Upon  my 
word,  this  moody  lord  ol'  mine  is  abominably  provoking  !  {Angrily.) 
But  no  matter.  lie  has  taught  me  his  own  indifference,  (feelingly,) 
at  least  he  shall  teach  it  me ;  and  I  care  not  if  we  never  have  another 
conjugal  tete-a-tete  as  long  as  we  live.  Yet  why  will  he  not  let  me 
inquire  into  the  truths  of  reports,  which  one  would  supjXJse  mutt  con- 
cern his  peace  as  well  as  my  own  :  And  why,  I  may  ask  myself,  why 
and  wherefore  till  doomsday  without  getting  any  answer,  or  being 
able  to  conjecture  the  truth  ■  So  I  may  as  well  pursue  my  own  career 
of  pleasure,  and  still  drown  all  the  recollection  of  my  better  feehng 
and  my  early  anticipating  in  the  bustle  and  gayety  of  society.  O 
Mordent !   Mordent !   ■why  have  you  driven  me  to  such  resources  : 

Mrs.  a.     (  Without,  l.)     I  tell  you  I  can't  stay. 

Lady  A.  The  stories,  too,  ^ith  ^\■llich  this  kind  but  officious  ."rea- 
ture  torments  me,  and  which  her  length  of  service  gives  her  the  priv- 
ilege of  telling  me ! 

Etiter  Mrs.  Sarsnet,  hastily,  l. 

Mrs.  S.     I've  got  it,  my  lady,  —  I've  got  it ! 

Lndy  A.  And  what,  pray,  have  you  got  now  ?  Some  new  report, 
or  merely  a  repetition  oC  the  old  one  ?  i, 

Mrs.  ^'.  AN'hy,  I'll  tell  your  ladyship.  A  queer  quandary  kind  of 
person  brought  my  master  a  letter,  ^\■hich  I  knew  was  auspicious.  So, 
ma'am,  I  watched  him  when  he  went  for  to  read  it,  and  then  he  put 
it  in  his  coat  pocket,  ma'am.  So  my  master's  coat  was  all  powder  — 
over  here,     {signifcantly.)     How  he  came  by  it,  I  don't  know. 

Lady  A.  Well,  well ;  don't  tease  me  about  it !  What  have  I  to 
do  ^^•ith  your  master's  letters  ? 

Mrs,  N.  So,  my  lady,  he  took  it  off,  and  ordered  one  of  the  fellows 
to  give  it  a  brush ;  so,  making  a  pretence,  I  was  close  at  his  heels 

Lady  A.     At  whose  heels  ? 

Mrs.  S.  The  footman's,  my  lady.  So,  while  he  was  brushing,  he 
had  a  wranglatiou  \\ith  the  cook,  and  turned  about  to  gabble  foot- 
man's gibberish  with  she.  So  I,  having  a  hawk's  eye,  twirled  my 
hand  behind  me  —  so,  and  felt  in  the  pocket ;  and  there  I  found  this 
written  letter,  M-hich  I  slyly  slipped  under  my  apron.     So 

Lady  A.     Take  a  letter  out  of  your  master's  pocket  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Yes,  my  lady.  And  so,  being  broke  open,  I  read  the  con- 
tents, and  found  that  it  was  from  Mr.  Lennox,  ma'am,  and  all  about 
master  and  a  young  giii.  O  !  that  I^Ir.  Lennox  leads  my  master  into 
all  kinds  of  mischief! 

Lady  A.  A  letter  !  A  confirmation,  perhaps  —  I  shall  betray  my- 
self. Give  it  me.  Sarsnet,  you  have  done  wrong.  To  have  robbed 
your  master  of  his  money  would  have  been  less  culpable  than  to  s-tcal 
from  him  the  knowledge  of  transactions  which  he  does  not  wish  to 
avow. 

Mn.  .S.  {^Wltiiitpering,  and  with  tokens  of  great  ajfeclion.)  It's 
"very  hard,  because  I  can't  bear  your  lady  —  ladyship's  ill  usage,  and 


20  THE    STEWAllD  ;    Oil,  [ACT   II. 

—  and  —  and  always  feel  as  if  my  very  stays  -were  a-biirsting,  to  see 
your  —  your  treatment,  time  after  tune — that  1  should  get  myself 
ill  —  ill  —  ill  will,  because  I  love  you  Irom  the  very  bottom  oi  my 
heart ! 

Lady  A.  You  have  indulged  yourself  in  these  liljertics  too  often  ; 
you  presume  on  the  length  of  your  seri'ice,  and  upon  the  familiarities 
I  liave  so  long  found  an  apology  for  in  your  attachment;  but  I'll  suf- 
fer it  no  longer. 

Mrs.  a  \er\  —  very  -well,  my  lady.  I'll  be  deaf,  and  dumb,  and 
blind  ;  and  when  I  see  you  treated  worser  than  a  Belsavagc,  I'll  burst 
twenty  laces  a  day  before  I'll  speak  a  word  ! 

Lailij  A.  {IVu/i  (/refit  kmilness  )  What  you  have  done  has  been 
affectionately  meant ;  and  I  am  sorry  to  have  given  you  pain. 

jtlrs.  S.  [^('iilrhing  aiul  kisoiiig  her  luind.)  You  are  the  tenderest 
and  best  of  ladies ;  and  I  know  who  is  an  unfeeling  brute  ! 

Laihj  A.  1  must  rid  myself  of  the  letter  as  fast  as  I  can,  lest  the 
temptation  should  be  too  great,  and  1  verity  the  character  of  my  sex, 
excite  the  anger  of  my  Blue  Beard,  and  become,  like  Fatima,  the 
victim  of  my  curiosity.  '^ExU,  k.) 

Mrs.  S.     Blue  Beard,  indeed  ! 

Enter  Lenxox  and  Cheveiiil,  l. 

Len.     Pray,  Mrs.  Sarsnct,  is  Mr.  Mordent  within  ? 

Mrs.  S.     Indeed,  sir,  I  don't  know.  {Eu-it,  miiilerincf,  r.) 

Len.  (c.)  I'll  bet  you  a  thousand,  Cheveril,  your  charmer  does 
not  equal  the  girl  I  have  this  moment  Iclt. 

Che.     (T,.  c.)     Done,  for  ten  thousand  ! 

L(ot.     You  would  lose. 

Che.     You  never  beheld  so  peerless  a  beauty. 

Le)i.     How  did  you  become  acquainted  with  her  ? 

Che.  A^''e  are  not  yet  acquainted,  {^ighiny  ,)  and  I  begin  to  fear 
■we  never  shall  be  ! 

Len.     O  !   O  ! 

Che.  I  met  her  three  times  in  the  Green  Park.  The  first  moment 
I  gazed  at  her  with  adnriration  ;  as  soon  as  she  was  gone  by 

Len.     Gone  by  ? 

Che.  No,  she's  not  gone  by ;  but  good  manners,  you  know,  would 
not  let  me  stare  her  in  the  face.  Such  a  shape  !  such  elegance  !  The 
next  time  I  determined  to  speak  to  her,  and  approached  as  resolutely 
as  Hcrculus  to  the  hydra. 

Len.     A  good  simile  for  a  beauty  ! 

Che.  I  had  studied  a  speech  ;  but,  somehow-,  there  was  such  a 
sweet  severity  in  her  looks,  I  —  I  had  not  the  power  to  utter  a  ^Vord. 

Len.     Courageous  lover  ! 

She.  The  third  time,  however,  it  being  a  little  darker,  —  for  it  was 
alwaj'S  in  the  eveiiing,  —  I  was  more  undaunted  ;  so,  fully  determined  to 
tluow  myself  at  her  feet  and  declare  my  passion,  up  I  marched  ;  but, 
as  the  devil  would  have  it,  slie  turned  and  looked  me  full  in  the  iace; 
and  —  and  virt^ie  —  and  —  and  modesty,  ever  so  awful  —  that  my 
heart  sunk  w.thin  me. 

Len.     {^Laughing.)     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 


SCENE    n.]  FASHION    AND    FEELING.  21 

Che.  It  is  now  a  fortnight  since ;  and  though  I  have  walked  the 
Green  Park  morning,  noon,  and  night,  every  day,  I  could  never  once 
again  set  eyes  on  her.  Intolerable  booby  that  I  was,  to  lose  three  such 
precious  opportunities 

Lt-n.     Of  making  love  to  a  lady's  maid  ! 

Che.  A  lady's  maid  !  Damn  it,  sir  !  she's  no  maid  !  she's  the  lady 
herself,  I'll  be  sworn  !  O  lor  one  momentary  glance  that  might  give 
vent  to  the  passion  that  devours  me  ! 

Li'ii.     {Lni/hiiig.^     Ha.  ha,  ha ! 

Che.     What  !     You  think  I  dare  not  ? 

Leu.  {Lui(jhin().)  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Look  you,  Cheveril,  I  know 
you.  A  lighted  match  and  the  mouth  of  cannon  could  not  cow  you 
like  the  appioach  of  a  petticoat. 

Che.  I  —  afraid  of  women  !  Damme  !  I  don't  understand  hav- 
ing my  character  attacked  and  traduced  !  Make  a  blaster  Jackey  of 
me  ?     I  am  a  wicked  one  ! 

Leu.  {Lnuihiii'i.)  lia,  ha !  Wicked!  You  are  as  conscientious 
as  a  dnmken  Methodist,  or  as  a  dying  miser  !  Y^ou  are  not  only 
afraid  of  the  women,  but  of  the  sin  ! 

Che.     Why,  if No,  damme  !   'tis  r.ot  true  !     I  have  no  more 

conscience  than  youl•^elf. 

Lea.  Me  !  I  have  a  deal  of  conscience.  Pleasure,  I  own,  can 
tempt  me  ;  but  I  make  no  pretensions,  like  you,  to  sin  for  the  sake  of 
reputation. 

Che.  Sir,  I  make  no  such  pi-ctension.  I  am,  indeed,  resolved  to 
be  a  lellow  of  enterprise,  pith,  and  soul ;  but  not  by  vile,  rascally 
methods.  I'll  love  all  the  women — that's  but  natural;  and,  per- 
haps, trick  some  of  the  men  — that's  all  fair  ;  but  not  seduce  wives, 
ruin  daughters,  and  murder  husbands  and  fathers.  No,  no  ;  I  don't 
go  so  lar  as  that  —  no  :  if  I  cannot  be  wicked  without  being  criminal, 
why,  I'll  live  and  die  an  houost,  dull  dog,  and  have  all  mylbrtune  to 
found  a  lying-in  hospital,  for  the  benefit  of  the  rising  generation  ! 

(^Exeunt,  L.) 
Enter  Mordent,  l.  s.  e. 

Mor.  {Searchincj  his  pockets.)  Curse  the  letter  !  'tis  gone  !  Care- 
less booby  !  A  thousand  to  one  but  it  ialls  into  the  hands  of  I^ady 
Anne  ;  and  the  officious  impertinence  of  her  Avaiting  woman  will  at- 
tribute the  gallantry  Lennox  writes  about  to  me. 

Enter  L.ADY  Anne,  r. 

Ah  !  she's  hci-e  !  {Retiring.)  I  dare  not  be  with  her  alone  —  I  dare 
not  confess  my  ruin  to  her,  or  stop  the  extravagant  habits  I  have  my- 
self urged  her  to  adopt. 

La(>ij  A.  Mr.  Mordent  !  !Mr.  Mordent  !  {Catching  hold  of  his 
arm.)  Nny,  nay,  you  shall  give  me  a  few  moments,  now  I  have  so 
fairly  caught  you.  Why,  one  would  swear  that  our  matrimonial  life 
at  home  was  a  game  of  hide  and  seek,  (fce.'ing'i/,)  only  that  all  the 
seeking  is  on  my  side.  And  one  would  really  suppose,  in  our  wandcr- 
ing.s  abroad,  that  we  studied  the  map  of  Londoa  only  to  go  different 
ways. 


22  THE    STEWARD  ;    OR,  [aCT  II. 

Mor.  Mirth,  madam,  is  not  in  unison  with  my  present  feelings. 
Ladi/  A.  Nay,  nay,  was  there  ever  a  time  that  Mordent  could  not 
make  me  what  he  pleased  r  He  found  me  a  simple-hearted  maiden 
at  eighteen,  and  made  me  a  fond,  affectionate  wife  at  twenty.  He 
thought  my  manners  too  rustic,  my  taste  too  domestic,  my  pursuits 
too  confined  ;  he  enlarged  my  sphere  of  action,  remodelled  my  dispo- 
sition, taught  me  to  seek  society,  and  made  the  moral  Lady  Anne 
Oldcrest  the  dashing  and  fashionable  Lady  Anne  Mordent.  Is  there 
any  thing  else  I  can  do  to  oblige  him  ?  You  were  displeased  that  I 
never  went  to  parties.  Now,  there  is  not  one  to  which  Lady  Anne 
ilordent's  name  does  not  give  distinction  in  the  fashionable  comer  of 
the  Morning  Post.  You  laughed  at  my  disinclination  for  play.  I 
have  coiTected  my  error,  and  can  display  as  proper  a  spirit  at  the  whist 
table  as  the  highest  titled  of  my  competitors. 

Mor.  (Aside.)  Distraction  !  she  hastens  my  ruin  by  complj'ing 
with  my  foolish  wishes  !  —  (  To  Lady  Axxe.)  Jladam,  if  you  sought 
an  interview  only  for  the  purpose 

Lndy  A.  Why,  if  I  did  not  seek  it  for  the  purpose,  I  am  afraid 
you  would  prevent  its  happening  by  accident.  So  now,  my  good 
moody  lord,  be  civil,  and  not  captious,  or  I'll  bring  you  on  your 
knees  in  a  moment.  (Showing  a  letter,  playfully.)  Look  at  this, 
traitor  ! 

Mor.  Ah  !  Lennox's  letter,  which  you  have  doubtless  read,  and 
attributed  the  contents  to  me,  and  come  to  upbraid  me  with  your 
suspicions  ! 

Lady  A.  {Seriously  and  proudly.)  You  do  me  wrong.  It  fell 
into  my  hands  by  the  reprehensible  but  unauthorized  curiosity  of  my 
woman.  I  have  flown  to  you  -v^-ith  it  unopened,  as  she  gave  it  me. 
That  I  intended  to  have  teased  you  a  little  maliciously  about  it,  I  con- 
fess. Your  reproaching  me  seriously  with  the  baseness  of  having  read 
it,  and  with  an  intention  to  upbraid  and  suspect  you,  has  diiven  this 
childish  idea  from  my  wishes.  There,  sir,  is  your  letter,  unread  by 
me.  However  I  may  have  lost  your  affections,  I  will  stUl  preserve 
your  respect. 

Mor.  Affections  I  —  They  are  dead  —  swallowed  up  in  the  same 
vortex  which  has  hurried  me  to  perdition  !  Why  do  ye  not  reproach 
me  with  neglect  ? 

Lady  A.  (  With  feeling.)  Because  I  am  proud  enough  to  bear  it 
with  indifference.     But,  come,  confide  once  more  in  me. 

Mi>r.  (Aside.)  Confide  in  her  !  tell  her  how  poor  I  have  made 
her,  and  repose  upon  that  heart  which  I  shall  render  ■^^Tetched  !  —  (To 
Lady  Anxe.)  N"o,  no,  it  is  impossible:  I  know  and  feel  that  your 
heart  is  reproaching  me.  though  your  lip  may  be  silent.  That  silence 
mj'  imagination,  perhaps  jamidiced,  construes  into  insult  :  but  beware, 
Lady  Anne,  how  you  expose  me  to  your  imperious  family  ! 

Lady  A.     I  do  not —  indeed  I  do  not. 

Mor.     AMiy,  then,  are  these  family  consultations  r 

Lady  A.     They  are  contrary  to  my  wish. 

Mor.  A  separation,  I  liear,  is  the  subject  of  them  ;  and,  perhaps, 
it  is  the  best  thing  for  both  of  us. 

Lady  A.     (Piqued.)     O,  I  have  no  doubt  you  think  so;  though. 


SCENE  n.]  FASHION    AND    lEELIXG.  23 

upon  my  word,  no  formal  process  of  law  can  occasion  a  much  greater 
separation  than  we  enjoy  —  at  present. 

Mor.  What  would  you  say  if  I  declared  my  fortune  to  be  lost, 
squandered,  wrecked  ? 

Lady  A.  Why,  perhaps,  in  such  a  case,  I  might  exclaim,  that  as  I 
had  helped  to  squander  it,  I  might  help  to  redeem  it  ;  and  that  ^lor- 
dent  has  it  still  in  his  power  to  make  me  an  alfectionate  wife  in  pov- 
erty, as  he  has  made  me  a  fashionable  one  in  his  affluence.  {Play- 
fully-) But  I  see  you  are  only  tr\-ing  me,  though  I  vow,  lor  the 
moment,  you  made  me  feel  seriously,  and  that  I  know  to  be  quite  out  of 
your  code  for  the  conduct  of  the  wife  of  the  fashionable  Mr.  Mord.^nt. 
So,  to  redeem  my  character,  and  not  lose  my  place  in  the  Morning 
Post,  I  am  off  for  my  evening  round  of  visits.  I  dine  at  Lady  Lin- 
ger's,  drop  in  for  Trumazzani's  Aria  at  the  Opera,  play  for  half  an 
hour  at  Lady  Scarecrow's,  squeeze  through  the  Marchioness  of  Stifle- 
friend's  rout,  dance  a  quadrille  at  Mrs  Somerset's,  and  sup  at  Lady 
AUnight's.  So,  my  good  moody  lord,  you  now  know  {siiihinc/)  ex- 
actly where  you  may  go  without  the  unfashionable  risk  of  encoun- 
tering your  A\-ife.  {Exit,  r.) 

Mor'.     Hated  —  hated  vice  !  what  an  angel  hast  thou  lost  me  ! 

Enter  Lenxox,  l. 

Len.     Have  you  got  my  letter  ? 

Mor.     O,  yes,  yes —  I've  got  it ;  and  my  wife  has  had  it. 

Len.     Your  wife  ■ 

Mor.  Yes,  yes ;  but  talk  not  of  her  —  to  think  of  her  is  distrac- 
tion.    What  is  it  you  want  r 

Len.  I  have  discovered  mv  charmer,  and  I  want  vovir  assistance 
to 

Mor.  Destroy  her  !  is  it  not  so  r  Wlien  destruction  is  your  ob- 
ject, you  think,  perhaps,  you  cannot  apply  to  a  better  source. 

Len.  Destroy  her  I  No ;  to  make  her  happy  :  if  I  can  at  all 
judge  fi-om  appearances,  she  is  not  so  at  present.  I  cannot  get  an  in- 
terview with  her  ;  she  is  at  my  old  nurse  Penfold's,  whom  I  shrewdly 
suspect  to  be  keeping  her  tor  some  sly  purpose  of  her  own.  But  come. 
Mordent,  where' s  the  alacrity  you  promised,  should  I  ever  need  your 
assistance  ■     Do  ye  so  soon  forget 

Mor.  That  I  am  in  your  debt  r  O,  no,  no  !  You  say  she  is  lovely 
—  perhaps  innocent. 

Len.  For  the  first  I  answer  ;  upon  the  latter  score,  one  can  never 
be  certain.  But  come,  man,  shake  off  your  scruples  ;  you  know  me 
too  well  to  suppose  I  should  use  any  girl  ill ;  —  so  your  advice  and 
assistance  I  must  have. 

Enter  Joxathax  Wintek,  in  great  agitation,  L. 

Win.     She  is  gone  !  she's  gone  !  she  is  lost  forever  ! 
Mor.     {Aside  to  Winter.)    How  now,  herald  of  maUce  and  mischief  ? 
Win.     O,  ye  may  talk  and  scold,  but  I  can't  forget  her.     Mayhap 
I  shall  never  set  eyes  on  her  pratty  face  again. 
Mor.     Peace,  I  say  ! 


34  THE    STEWARD  ;    OH,  [ACT   III. 

IVin,  Peace  !  How  can  you  expect  it  r  how  can  ye  dare  to  hope 
for  it  ?  O,  ye  may  call  mc  names,  an'  you  wull ;  Ize  spake  mj'  mind. 
A  fayther  tuin  his  back  on  his  child  !     But  she  left  a  message  for  ye. 

JiJjr.     (Anxiously.)     What  message  ? 

Win.  Tell  him,  if  he  woan't  gie  his  child  ane  kiss,  ane  little  bless- 
ing, that  child  will  wark,  starve,  and  die,  ere  she  wull  live  Uke  a 
parish  pauper  on  scraps  and  alms  ;  tell  him  she  has  a  prideful  spirit, 
that  doan't  care  to  beg  what  she  can't  win  ;  and  if  he  scorn  to  ac- 
knowledge his  daughter,  why,  she  scorns  to  accept  his  charity.  That's 
her  message  to  ye.  {G  >bii,  but  returns.)  But  I'll  set  the  ■whole  town 
ater  her  but  what  I'll  find  her  ;  and  I'd  make  you  look  ater  her  your- 
sen,  but  that  ye  doau't  knoM'  the  face  of  your  own  child. 

Len.     How  ? 

Win.  It  be  true  as  you  stands  there,  Maister  Lennox  :  he  never 
saw  the  face  o'  her  sin'  she  were  a  foot  long.  But  'tis  all  very  well ; 
nothing  comes  more  surely  to  light  than  that  which  is  long  hidden ; 
an  ill  life,  an  ill  end.  {Exit,  R.) 

Mar.     "Wolves,  tigers,  seijients,  were  first  created,  and  then  man  ! 

Len.  You  are  truly  a  high  fellow.  Mordent ;  you  spend  your  for- 
tune, deceive  your  wile,  and  disown  your  child  !  That  is,  you  inflict 
misery,  and  then  tell  us  all  you  are  miserable. 

Mor.  I  act  and  am  acted  upon :  the  precept  and  the  proof  go 
together. 

Xe«.  You  are  incorrigible.  But  come,  we  must  about  this  business ; 
my  heart  is  deeply  interested. 

Mor.  ISIy  affairs  are  at  a  crisis ;  and,  if  I  augur  rightly,  it  wiH 
soon  be  all  over  Avith  me. 

Len.     Hope  better  ;  come  AAith  me. 

Mor.  With  you  —  yvixh  any  one.  My  own  thoughts  are  hateful 
to  me.     Lead  me  w-here  you  ■will ;  teach  me  to  forget  myself ! 

(^Exeunt,  l.) 

END    OF   ACT   H. 


ACT  m. 

ScENF.  I.  —  A  Chamber  in  the  House  of  Mordent.     Two  chairs. 

Enter  Mordext,  r. 

Mor.  The  crisis  of  my  fate  is  come  ;  I  seem  fairly  hurled  into  the 
toils,  and  my  pursuer  is  waiting  to  seize  upon  his  prey.  This  cursed 
deed,  which  gives  the  power  to  ruin  me  beyond  redemption,  is  ready 
for  my  signature ;  but  the  plunge  must  be  made ;  it  places  at  least 
some  little  time  between  me  and  destruction,  and  is  my  last  resource. 
This  poor  deserted  Joanna,  too,  preys  upon  my  mind,  and  adds  venom 
to  the  stings  of  my  remorse.  Forsaken  as  she  is,  she,  too,  maj'  be- 
come the  prey  of  some  designing  Lennox.  And  I  have  promi  -ed  liim 
assistance  in  his  pxirsuit.     Y'et,  if  it  be  innocence  he  means  to  destroy, 


SCENE    I.]  FAblllOX    AND    FEELING.  25 

I  will  recall  my  promise  ;  I  ■v\'ill  warn  her  of  her  clanger  ;  ibr,  in  my 
own  wreck,  I  will  not  pull  down  the  hapiDiness  and  innocence  of 
another. 

Enter  Clemext,  l. 

Cle.  My  uncle  desires  me  to  inform  you,  sir,  that  he  has  examined 
the  deed,  and  it  is  ready  for  signing. 

Mor.     I  am  coming. 

Cie.  Had  I  but  any  influence  with  you,  sii-,  I  would  entreat  —  I 
would  conjure  you  not  to  execute  it,  sir. 

Mor.     (^SiUiiit/,  n.  c.)     Why? 

Cle.  A  sudden  demand  may  be  made  by  the  first  mortgagee  ;  you 
may  be  unprovided  lor  payment  ;  equity  of  redemption  will  be  for- 
feited ;  he  will  l(>reclose.  and  the  estate  will  be  his  at  a  valuation 
made  fifty  years  ago  —  less  than  half  its  present  worth. 

Mof.  (^Laujhiiij.)  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  'Twill  become  his  encum- 
brance, as  it  has  been  mine. 

Cle.     Money  lenders  neglect  no  advantage. 

Mor.     And  as  lor  conscience  or  honor 

Cle.     Some  of  them,  I  am  afraid,  sir,  have  very  little  of  either. 

Mor.  'Tis  in  the  order  of  things.  Your  uncle,  indeed,  is  a  man 
of  integrity  ;  he  knows  them  to  be  rogues,  and  warns  me  of  them. 

Cle.  Sii-,  he  —  I  —  he  may  be  a  mistaken  man,  Uke  others.  I 
once  again  conjure  you,  sir,  to  reconsider  the  consequence ;  it  is  a 
very  serious  affair. 

Mor.  Mr.  Clement,  you  are  young ;  jou  cherish  the  fond  hope 
of  alleviating  miserj'.     Ah  ! 

Cle.  Sir,  I  —  my  situation  is  a  painful  one  ;  but  every  feeling  of 
honesty  and  duty  compels  me  to  inform  you,  that,  when  once  you 
have  signed  tliis,  you  will  be  wholly  in  the  grasp  of  merceiiary  men, 
who  will  pay  no  respect  to  former  profits,  the  benefits  they  have 
received,  or  the  feelings  and  di-tresses  of  him  by  whom  they  have 
acquired  wealtM,  jrower,  and  pride.  [Exit,  l.) 

Mor.  The  nephew  and  the  uncle,  poor  fools  !  have  the  misfortune 
to  be  honest ;  Lfrime,  sly  villain  !  is  more  cunning,  and  will  not 
forfeit  his  hope  of  cutting  evil  short  at  the  gallows.  The  deed  must 
be  signed,  for  the  moncj'  must  be  had.  Yet  these  cautionings  do  but 
strengthen  an  avosion  which,  in  spite  of  necessity,  1  have  alwavs 
felt  against  this  last  act  of  despair. 

Enter  IxEjr,  l. 

Item.     (^Aside.)     Vt'hat  can  detain  him  : 

Mor.  (^Risini/.)  Mr.  Item,  you  are  right  —  this  mortgage  is  a 
bad  affair.  Delay  is  dangerous  ;  thought  is  vain  ;  yet  I  am  inclined 
to  think  again  before  I  sign. 

Itent.  Think! — O,  by  all  means,  sir;  I  like  that  —  I  approve 
that.  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  here  is  the  upholsterer  below,  who  is 
very  insolent,  and  declares,  if  he  Iio  not  paid  immediately,  he  will 
have  an  execution  iii  the  hoiise  before  niglit. 

Mor.     Scoundrel !  —  Could  not  you  r)\it  him  off  for  a  week  ? 
3 


26  THE    STE-WAED  ;    OR,  [ACT   III. 

J'em.     He  has  been  put  off  too  often. 

M !f.  Are  there  no  moans  by  which  you  could  advance  me  that  sum 
youi  sell  r 

Item.  O  that  I  could  !  it  would  make  me  the  happiest  man  on 
earth ! 

Mor.     AfFei'tionate  soul ! 

Item.     Riches  would,  indeed,  be  welcome. 

Moy.  (  With  sensibiliii/.)  Mr.  Item,  you  make  me  as  great  a  fool 
as  yourself. 

Item.     As  to  the  deed,  I  warn  you  again  and  again  not  to  sign  it. 

Mor.  Then  I  will  not.  Ruin  and  wretchedness  are  certain  ;  but 
the  mode  of  being  wretched  is  in  my  own  choice,  and  I  will  not. 

Item.  Yet  what  the  devil  I  shall  say  to  all  your  tradesmen,  I  don't 
know  :  they  arc,  every  one  of  them,  as  clamorous  as  the  upholsterer. 
I  don't  believe  one  of  them  will  wait  two  days. 

Mor.     "Was  ever  man  so  pestered  ? 

Item.  Here,  too,  is  a  long  accoimt  that  I  have  just  received  from 
your  groom  at  Newmarket,  who  says  he  shall  soon  want  even  a  wisp 
of  hay.  For  my  part,  I  have  not  a  guinea  in  hand  —  I  \\ish  I  had. 
ITicn  the  impatience  of  C'heveril ;  and  what  the  malignant  world  will 
say  of  the  defalcation  of  a  guardian,  there  is  no  foreseeing.  Sign  you 
must  not. 

Mor.  At  least,  I  will  take  an  hour  or  two  to  think  of  it.  Misfor- 
tune, disgrace,  and  approaching  inlamy,  sit  mocking  at  me ;  and  I 
shall  soon  attain  the  acme  of  misery  !  (Exit,  l  ) 

Iti<7n.  {Laughing  stiei-riiiglg.)  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  You  won't  sign  ! 
Indeed,  moody  master  of  mine  !  Ha  !  but  I  will  send  those  about 
your  ears  that  will  presently  make  you  1  Now  to  see  if  Joanna  is  still 
safe.  '  {Exit,  l.) 

Scene  II.  —  A  Room  in  the  House  of  Grime. 

Enter  Chevef.il  and  Grdie,  r. 

Che.     You  must  let  me  have  the  cash  directly. 

Grime.     That  is  impossible. 

C/ie.  I  say,  you  must.  Impossible,  indeed !  I'm  of  age,  young, 
rich,  gay  :  I'll  have  nothing  impossible  ! 

Grim-'.  {Aside.)  What  if  I  were  to  tell  him  of  Joanna  ?  'Twould 
be  a  good  joke  to  rob  old  Item  of  her  ;  and  lio  would  pay  well. 

Che.  Twelve  boi.irs  I  have  been  free,  and  I  haven  t  had  a  taste  of 
pleasure  yet.     If  I  don't  make  haste,  I  shall  grow  old  betore  I  begin. 

Grime.     { Aside.)     'Tis  a  rare  thought. 

Che.  Why  do  you  ruminate  r  Do  you  doubt  me  :  —  doubt  a  man 
of  eight  thousand  a  year: 

Grime.     I  say,  Mr.  C'hcveiil 

Che.     Well,  what  do  you  say  ? 

Grime.     Do  you  love  innocence,  youth,  and  beauty? 

Chf.  Love  'em  !  'Sdeath  !  An't  I  hunting  them  ?  an't  I  dpng 
for  them  ? 

Grime,     (l.)     I  know  whej-e  they  are  to  be  found. 


SCEXE    m.]  FASHIJX    AMJ    FEELING.  27 

Che.     (c.)     You ! 

Grime.     The  rarest  creature  ! 

C/ie.     "SVhere  —  where,  you  old  fox  :  -whore  ? 

Grime.     Such  pure  red  and  white  ! 

Che.     Ay  ! 

Grime.     Such  moist,  ripe,  ruddy  lips  ! 

Che.  'Sdeath  !  don't  drive  me  mad  I  Tell  me  Avhere  !  Red  and 
•white  !  ripe  and  ruddy  lips  !  But,  stop  ;  I'll  not  be  mifaithful  to  my 
angelic  incognita  of  the  Green  Park. 

Giimc.     She's  a  young,  untutored  thing. 

Che.  Untutored  !  Then,  depend  on  it,  I'll  not  be  her  instructor. 
She  is  not  for  me.  I  want  to  be  a  famous,  wicked  fellow,  but  not 
by  insnaring  the  helpless.     Xo  :  that  isn't  the  true  way. 

Grime.  Ay,  but  insnared  she  will  be ;  and  by  one  old  enough  to 
be  her  grandfather. 

Che.     Xo  ;  curse  me  if  she  shall ! 

Grime.     Why,  what  will  you  do  ? 

Che.  Snatch  her  from  such  aanger,  provide  for  her,  cherish  her, 
love  her.  Xo,  I  can't  love  her :  my  Green  Park  beauty  has  got  all 
my  love. 

Grime.     Ay,  now  you  say  something. 

Che.  Zoiuids  !  here  have  I  been  an  age  in  the  possession  of  eight 
thousand  a  year,  and  have  not  done  one  famous,  good,  wicked  thing 
yet !     It's  a  damned  shame  I     Isn't  it,  old  Cent  per  Cent : 

Grime.     You'll  fall  in  love  with  her  the  moment  you  see  her. 

Che.  To  be  sure  I  shall.  Xo,  I  shan't  :  I'm  in  love  already  ;  and 
one  can't  fall  into  two  pits  at  the  same  time. 

Grime.     [Giving  a  card.)     There  —  there's  her  address. 

Che.     Her  address  !     Mine  will  do  the  rest. 

Grime.     Mention  my  name,  and  they'll  admit  vou. 

Che.     {Beading.)     "Mrs.    Pe»fo/d,' Xo.  ""     'Sblood  !     Why 

do  I  stand  prating  here  ?  Another  day  will  be  over,  and  I  shan't  get 
a  taste.     (Crosses  to  L.  u.) 

Grime.     'Tis  just  by  ;  and  I'm  telling  you  of  a  banquet. 

Che.  To  rescue  youth  and  beauty  from  age  and  ugliness  is,  indeed, 
a  banquet.     So  good  by,  old  Grime  —  here  goes  !  {Exit,  l.  h.) 

Grime.  (Laughing.)  Ha,  ha!  I  hope  he'll  outrival  Item;  and 
if  he  should  chance  to  marry  her,  111  tell  him  she's  legitimate,  and 
shall  have  to  bring  the  action  of  recovery  for  my  reward.  {Exit,  k.) 


Scene  III.  —  Outside  of  Mrs.  Penfold's  House.     Window  and  door 
in  fiat,  practical. 

Enter  Chevekil,  1  e.  l.  h. 

Che.  This  is  the  street :  it  must  be  somewhere  hereabouts.  What 
a  fatiguing  affair  pleasure-hunting  is  !  O  that  I  could  once  more 
meet  my  lovely  angel  —  my  Green  Park  deity  !  But  she  seems  as 
much  lost  as  Rosianond's  Pond.  {Examining  the  card.)  This  is  the 
number. 


THE    STEWARD  ;    OR,  [aCT   lU. 


Enter  TrKyi  from  Mrs.  Penef old's  door,  R-  D.  F. 

Ah,  old  Item !     What,  my  old  boy  !    you  running  after  the  girls 
too? 

Item,  (jirls  !  "What  do  you  mean  by  girls,  Mr.  Cheveril  ?  What 
brought  you  here  ? 

C/ie.  The  pursuit  of  pleasiure,  my  old  boy  —  of  beauty  !  Do  you 
know  where  I  can  lind  it  ? 

Item.  I  !  How  should  I  know,  Mr.  Cheveril  ?  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  beauty.     You  know  business  is  my  pursuit. 

Che.  O,  j'ou  sly  old  poacher  !  Grime  tells  me  there's  a  very 
pretty  girl  horcaVouts. 

Item  Grime  !  —  (Aside  )  A  prating  rascal !  —  (To  Cheveril.) 
Did  Grime  tell  you  so  ?  (.Harmed.)  Pooh !  pooh  !  He  was  only 
quizzing  you. 

Che.  Quizzing  !  No,  no  !  (Reconnoitring  the  house  )  Door 
shut  —  ^^■indows  fast  —  all  close  as  a  country  jail.  How  shall  I 
get  in  ? 

Ifem.  Eh  ?  get  into  jail  ?  Easy  enough.  But  I  say,  Mr. 
Cheveril 

Che.  O  for  a  harlcqvun's  wand,  that,  Avith  a  slap,  I  might  turn  the 
house  inside  out,  and  see  all  its  contents  ! 

Iti-m.  Eh  !  what  ?  He'll  turn  the  house  out  of  window.  O 
Lord ! 

Che.     Wmdow  !     Gad,  my  old  boy,  a  good  thought ! 

(Buttoning  up  his  coat,  and  preparing  for  a  hap.) 

Item.     Why,  wh.&X.  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

Che.  Do  !  Why,  since  the  damned  inhospitable  door  won't  turn 
upon  its  hinges,  and  admit  me,  I'll  e'en  make  a  morning  call,  by  tak- 
ing a  flying  leap  through  the  window.     So  here  goes  ! 

Item.  (A-iide.)  What  shall  I  do  ?  —  (Stopping  him.)  But  I  say, 
Mr.  Cheveril,  recollect  —  remember 

Che.  Eh  r  Why,  v\hat's  the  matter?  —  (Aside.)  Egad!  Item 
was  coming  out  of  the  house :  he  must  be  the  old  man  !  Curse  my 
foolish  tongue  !     It  had  like  to  have  spoilt 'd  all  ! 

Itt;ii.  (Anxiously.)  And  did  Grime  say  this  beauty  was  to  be 
found  here  ? 

Che.  Here  !  no.  O,  he  didn't  tell  me  Avhere  !  He  only  mentioned 
general  terms —  beauty  and  so  forth  ;  but  'twas  only  a  j(  ke. 

Item.  A  joke!  —  O,  only  a  joke!  (L'uighing.)  Ha,  ha,  ha! 
(Earnestlg.)     But  you  are  sm-e  he  didn't  tell  you  where? 

Che.     O,  quite  sure  ! 

Item,  (Anxiously.)  You're  sure  it  was  only  a  joke  ?  (Laughing.) 
Ha,  ha  !     You're  quite  sure  ? 

Chs.  O,  only  a  joke  !  (  Joaxn.v  Ihron-s  up  the  sash,  r.  f.,  and  ap- 
pears at  the  window  for  a  moment.)     What  the  devil  was  that  ? 

Item.  (Alarmed,  and  turning  CiiEVEUH,  suddenly  round.)  O, 
nothing ! 

Che.  Nothing!  (Looking  towards  the  loindow.)  I  am  sure  I  saw 
a  petticoat  and  a  sash. 


SCENE    IV.]  FASHION-    AND    FEELING.  29 

Iti>m.  (Turning  him  round)  Yes,  a  sash  —  a  sash  window. — 
(Asi'/e.)  I  wish  I  could  c;et  him  away  !  — {To  Ciievebil.)  But  I 
forf^ot :  your  guardian  wants  you. 

Che,     Then  he  must  wait. 

liein.  But  there's  some  money  you  must  receive. — {Aside.)  If 
that  doesn't  entice  him,  nothing  wdl. 

Che.     That  must  wait  too. 

Lein.     But  you'd  better  go  to  Mr.  Mordent's. 

Che.     {A-iide.)     The  old  tellow  saspects  !  —  (Tb  Item.)     I  can't. 

Item.     Why  not  ? 

Che.  This  is  my  road,  that's  yours.  I  pursue  pleasure,  you  busi- 
ness. You  know  they  always  lie  different  ways  ;  so,  tiy  and  prepare 
the  cash.  1 11  be  with  you  presently  ;  and  then  hope  never  to  see 
your  lace  again  till  the  money  is  spent,  and  I  want  more. 

{El  It,   D.  F.  R.    H.) 

Itim.  There  he  flies,  the  whirligig  !  Ah,  he's  out  of  sight,  and  all 
is  sate  !  That  cursed  babbliijg  tongue  of  Grime's  had  almost  ruined 
me.     Xow  to  make  Mordent  uign  the  deed,  and  I'm  safe. 

{Exit,  L.) 


Scene  IV.  —  A  Boom  in  t/te  Hrjuse  of  Mrs.  Penfold.     Folding  doors, 
D.  F.  L.  H.,  practical. 

Enter  M]is.  Penfold,  r.  1  e. 

Mrs    P,     {Calling,)     Betty ! 
Betty.     {Without,)     Ma'am. 

Mrs,  P.  "SVho  is  it  that  bounced  through  the  back  window  m  Eucli 
haste? 

Eiiter  Betts',  l. 

Betty,     I  don't  know,  ma'am.     A  young  —     Hem  !      {Exit,  l.) 
Enter  Cheveril,  l.  1  e. 

Che,  I  am  here  safe  —  I  have  twicked  him  !  Ah  !  my  charm- 
er       Hum  !      O,  your  humble  servant,  madam  !      Your  name 

is 

Mrs.  P.     Mrs.  Penfold,  at  your  service,  sir. 

Che.  Your  acquaintance,  honest  Mr.  Grime,  informs  me  you  have 
a  beautiful  girl  und'T  your  care. 

.Wr*.  P.  True,  sir  ;  but  I  can  permit  her  to  see  nobody  without 
Mr.  Item's  leave. 

Che.  Item!  the  cunning  rogue!  O  ma'am,  I'm  just  come  from 
old  Item  I 

Mrs.  P.     O,  if  you  have  his  pennission 

Che.  Permission  !  —  O,  yes  !  —  no  —  that  is  —  {A.^ide.)  I  won't 
lie,  even  to  a  woman,  though  I  know  'tis  the  fashion.  —  (7b  Mrs. 
Penfold.)     I   haven't   got  the  old  boy's  permission.     I  only  want 


•30  THE    bTEWAKD;    OK,  [ACT   lU. 

yours  ;  and  look  here,  {producing  a  bank  note,)  I'll  give  you  this  for 
five  minutes'  convei-sation  with  her. 

A//-.5.  P.  Why,  bless  me  !  'tis  more  than  my  whole  year's  annuity  ! 
But,  observe,  sii-,  it  is  only  a  short  conversation. 

Che.     Nothing  more. 

Mrs.  /'.     No  injury  to  Mr.  Item  ? 

Che,     Never  fear. 

Mrs.  P.     Well,  then,  only  for  five  minutes.  (Exit,  C.  d.  f.) 

C/ie.  Now,  courage,  Cheveril,  and  don't  let  her  imagine  I'm  one 
of  your  shcep-faco^  fellows.  I  don't  fear  any  woman  except  her  in 
the  Green  Park.  Now,  if  she  be  worth  saving  from  this  old  fellow, 
and  I  could  outwit  him,  I  —  O  !  —  I  should  establish  my  character 
for  spirit,  soul,  and  intrepidity  forever !  I'll  not  be  out  of  counte- 
nance. No,  damme  !  I  am  determined.  I'll  six:ak  —  I'll  speak,  and 
to  the  purpose,  too !  I'll  be  a  forward,  prating,  impudent,  wicked 
dog! 

Enter  Joanna,  c.  u.  f.     Cheveril  turns  his  back,  and  tries  to  assume 
courage. 

Joa.  A  gentleman  to  speak  to  me !  Perhaps  he  who  has  written 
to  me,  to  warn  me  that  I  am  not  safe  here,  and  who  has  sent  me  a 
disguise. 

Che.  {Not  daring  to  lank  at  Joanna.)  Mrs.  Penfold  !  Mrs.  Pen- 
fold  !  I  wish  Mrs.  Penfold  was  hero.  I  should  have  felt  bold 
enough  had  she  been  present. 

Joa.     It  is  very  strange ! 

Che.  (Listoii/ig.)  What  does  she  say  r  Ha  —  hem!  Mrs.  Pen- 
fold  !     Where  the  devil  now  is  all  my  impudence  flown  ? 

Joa.     I  hear  from  Mrs.  Penfold  that  you  wish  to  speak  to  me,  sir. 

Che.     Yes  —  no  —  yes  —  that  is .     If  I  could  but  turn  round  ! 

—  one  plunge,  and  it  would  be  over.  {Turning  by  degrees.)  Ma  — 
Heavens  !     {He  stands  astonished.) 

Joa.     {Aside.)     Mercy  !     It  is  he ! 

Che.     {Aside.)     The  very  beauty  of  the  Green  Park  ! 

Joa.     {Sighing.)     I  had  almost  hoped  never  to  have  seen  him  more ! 

Che.  {Aside.)  This  is  the  luckiest  —  lucky!  To  find  her  here, 
exposed  to  I  know  not  what  danger ! 

Joa.     {Aside.)     I  have  thought  of  him  too  much. 

Che,     Madam,  I  am  sorry  to  find  you 

Joa.     Sorry  to  find  me  ? 

Che.  No,  no,  no,  madam  :  glad  to  find  you  —  infinitely  glad  ;  but 
not  exposed  as  you  are  in  this  house. 

Joa,  Exposed  to  what,  sir  ?  Then  was  it  you  who  wrote  to  me 
under  the  name  of  Lennox,  this  morning,  and  sent  me  a  disguise  ? 

Che.  {Aside.)  Lennox  !  disguise  !  Is  this  his  charmer,  then  ?  — 
(  To  Joanna.  )  Zounds  !  my  sweet  —  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  but  don't 
put  it  on  :  'tis  another  plot.  I  never  speak  ill  of  any  body ;  but  Len- 
nox is  a  great  villain  :  that  is,  where  women  are  concerned.  O,  I  am 
so  glad  to  see  you  !  Why  the  devil  didn't  you  come  into  the  Green 
Park  again  r  I  got  the  rheumatism  watching  for  you.  I  Avas  frantic 
to  think  I  had  lost  vou. 


SCENE    IT.]  i-ASUIOX    AXI)    fEELIXG,  81 

Joa.     How  SO,  sir  ?    We  are  not  acquainted. 

Clw.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  ma.lau)  ;  b —  b—  but  I  hope  we  shall  be. 
I  have  be',>u  a  very  Eedlaraite  ;  I  could  neitbcr  cat,  dnuk,  nor  t-lcep  ; 
I  have  dreamed  of  yoa  every  night  ;  you  have  beja  in  my  head,  in 
my  heart,  in  ray  aiTns. 

J 'a.     Your  arms,  sir  ? 

('fu'.  0,  lord!  no,  madam,  no,  no!  I — -I — am  talking  in  my 
sleep  now.  Fmgive  me  it'  I  appear  intrudir^g  ;  indeed,  my  intention 
is  good. 

Mor.     (  Without,  L.)     I  tell  you,  I  will  see  her  ! 

Vhe.  (Alarm-d.)  'Sdeath  !  I  hear  my  guardian  !  {Lookin'i  about.') 
I  must  not  be  seen ;  but,  for  H  avcn's  sake,  let  me  speak  to  you  once 
more  I  111  hide  here.  Get  rid  of  guardy,  a. id  I'll  pop  out,  and  rinish 
the  convi'rsation.  (^Ratires  into  a  closdC,  l.  i>.  F.,/ro/H  ichich  lie  occa- 
sionaily  Itio'is.') 

Joa.     But,  sir,  what  will  Mrs.  Penfold  say  ?  what  will  she  think  ? 

Enter  Moedext,  l.  1  e. 

Mor.  {Surveying  Joaxxa.)  Your  humble  sei-vant,  madam.  — 
(Aside.)     Shs  is,  indeed,  beautif  il! 

Joa.     Sir,  is  it  Mrs.  Penfold  that  you  want  ? 

Mor.     Xo,  madam  ;  it  is  yourself. 

C'/ie.  {Asidf,fri)in  the  closet.)  Curse  me,  if  I  don't  think  old  Item 
has  placed  her  here  tor  him  I 

Joa,     I  have  not  the  plea-ure  of  knowing  you,  sir. 

Mor.  That,  madam,  is  true  ;  but  you  know  a  gentleman  of  the 
name  of  Lennox,  madam,  do  you  not  ? 

Joa.  Xot  personally,  sii" ;  but  I  have  received  a  letter  signed  by 
that  name. 

Mor.     He  has  made  prrrosals  to  you,  has  he  not  r 

Joa.  Proposals  !  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir.  He  warned  me 
of  some  threatened  danger,  but.  I  coniess,  his  letter  was  a  riddle  to  me. 

M>r.  {Asid.-.)  By  H.'avens,  she  is  an  innocent !  Nay,  her  coun- 
tenance would  half  persuade  me  there  are  beings  ca])able  of  happiness. 

Che.  {Aside,  from  the  closet.)  Zomids !  he  looks  as  if  he,  too, 
•would  fall  in  love  with  her ! 

Mor  Pardon  my  intrusion,  madam.  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  but 
I  am  interested  most  warmly  in  your  welfare;  and  since  I  have  seen 
you,  that  interest  has  incrjased.     ^ladam,  you  are  in  danger. 

J la.  Yon,  too,  warn  me  of  danger  I  ^^'hat  is  it,  and  who  is  it,  I 
am  to  fear  ? 

Mir.  Young,  beautiful,  innocent,  and  unprotected,  you  should  ask, 
who  is  it  you  are  not  to  fear  :  Ai'e  you  yet  to  learn  that  youth,  inno- 
cence, and  beauty,  are  but  so  many  incentives  to  the  lawless  libertine, 
and  that  there  are  thousands  ready  to  plot  thi-ir  destruction  "r 

Che.     {Aside.)     What  the  de\-il  arc  they  about  : 

Joa.  There  is  a  tone,  sir,  in  your  voice,  that  —  I  know  not  why  — 
strikes  directly  to  my  heart. 

Che.  {Aside.)  The  devil  there  is !  She  didn't  say  that  of  my 
voice. 


32  THE    STEWAKD  ;    OK,  [ACT    III. 

Joa.  Point  out  to  me  my  dangei-  —  teach  me  to  avoid  it.  I  will 
confide  in  ymi. 

Mor.  Conlide  in  none  but  yourself.  I  have  been  almost  lured 
into  a  plot  for  the  destruction  of  your  innocence,  because  I  was  led  to 
believe  that  innocence  did  not  exist ;  but  I  have  seen  you,  am  con- 
vinced, and  will  at(5ne  my  error.     Who  and  what  arc  you  r 

Joa,  I  am  nobody  —  the  child  of  nobody —  a  branch  lopjxd  off,  and 
cast  away,  that  might  have  gro'\\'n,  but  that  could  find  no  root.  Mis- 
fortune and  an  active  spitit,  struggling  to  shake  off  oppression,  have 
quickened  me  a  little.  Other  than  this,  I  am  but  a  simple  girl ;  and 
my  whole  art  is  to  note  what  I  see,  and  to  speak  what  I  think. 

Mor.  AVhoever  you  are,  come  but  with  me;  and,  whUe  I  have  a 
morsel,  a  home,  or  a  heart,  you  shall  share  them. 

Che.     {Riiniii)i<i  forward  from  the  closet.')     Damme,  if  she  shall. 

Mm:     ^^■hy,  ilr. 

Che.     She  shall  have  my  morsel,  my  home,  and  my  heart ! 

Mor.     You  in  this  house,  sir  —  Avith  this  lady,  sir  ! 

Che.  Nay,  sir  —  you  in  this  house,  sir  —  v.\ih  thLs  lady,  su- !  ^lad- 
am,  put  no  faith  in  him  ;  he  does  not  care  a  farthing  for  you.  I  love 
you,  heart,  body,  and  soul !  I'll  offer  you  no  wrong.  Every  proof 
that  the  most  ardent,  purest  passion  can  give,  feel,  or  imaguie,  shall 
be  yom-s, 

Joa.  For  Heaven's  sake,  gentlemen  !  O,  where  is  !Mrs.  Penfold  ? 
I  must  seek  her,  to  prevent  mischief.  {Exit,  precipitate/ if,  c.  d.  f., 
calling  "Mrs.  Penfold  !  ") 

Mor.  {I'revetitiiig  Cheveeil  yVow  passing.')  How  came  I,  sir,  to 
find  you  here  r 

Che.     Zomids  !  sir,  how  came  I  to  find  you  here  ? 

Entc7-  Mrs.  Penfold,  c.  d.  f. 

Mrs.  P.  ^\Tiat  have  you  done,  sir  r  Ah,  another  gentleman  I  A 
little  more,  and  you  had  frightened  her  into  a  fit. , 

Mor.  Hark  you,  Mrs.  Penfold ;  at  your  peril,  keep  her  safe  and 
free  from  insult  till  my  return.  {Exit,  l.") 

Che.  Insult  !  If  1  hear  that  old  Item,  or  any  body  else,  insults 
her,  I'll  make  a  general  massacre !  Let  any  one  take  her  away,  speak 
to  her,  or  even  look  at  her,  while  I  am  gone,  and  I'll  grind  you  all  to 
powder  !  {Going,  but  returning  hastily.)  Here  —  here's  another  bank 
bill.  I'll  be  back  in  five  minutes.  Keep  her  safe,  and  I'll  give  you  a 
thousand  pounds.  My  name  is  Chevcril — ten  thousand!  {Going 
again,  but  returning.)  Cheveril,  I  say  !  My  whole  estate,  my  old 
girl  !  (  Exit,  L.) 

Mrs.  P.     But,  sir  —  sir  !     Mr.  Item  will  never  forgive  me. 

{Exit,  L.) 
Reenter  Joanxa,  hastily,  C.  d.  f. 

Joa.  Did  I  hear  right  ?  Am  I,  then,  in  the  power  of  the  man 
against  whom  "Winter  has  so  often  A\arned  me  ?  Every  thmg  confirms 
it.  I  must  escape ;  but  how  ?  Ah !  the  disguise  sent  me  for  a  vile 
purpose  shall  effect  a  good  one.     I  will  use  it ;  return  to  the  spot  where 


SCE^E  r.]  r.vsuioN  and  feeling.  83 

Jonathan  used  to  meet  me  in  the  Green  Park  ;  under  his  protection 
seek  some  humble  retirement ;  and,  while  an  honest  though  jx>(<r  inde- 
pendence becom.-s  the  truit  of  virtuous  industry,  I  will  pray  lor  that 
father  who  exposed  me,  unprotected  and  helpless,  to  the  vicLssitudcs 
ot  the  woiid  I  {^Exii,  n.) 

EXD    OF    ACT   III. 


ACT   IV. 
Scene  I.  —  The  Steward's   Room.      A  table  and  tico  chairs. 

Enter  Item,  enraged,  and  Grime,  determined,  with  a  bag,  n. 

Grime.  Once  for  all,  Mr.  Item,  it  avIU  not  do ;  so  be  of  a  sweet 
temper. 

Item.  AVhy,  you  grumbling  old  blockhead  !  what  would  you  have  ? 
May  you  not  thank  me  for  every  shilling  you  are  worth  in  the  world  ? 

Grime.  Don  t  tell  me,  Mr.  Item ;  I  am  but  yoiu:  scavenger,  and 
you  put  me  to  a  deal  of  dirty  work. 

Itnni      Here's  ingratitude  !     Why,  Mr.  Grime 

Grime.     Well,  Mr.  Item. 

Item.  Did  I  not  first  iind  you  in  Fullwood's  Eents,  where  you 
■were  stars'ing  in  rags  and  wretchedness  r     Answer  that. 

Grime.     "Well ! 

Item.  Did  I  not  take  you  to  Monmouth  Street ;  make  you  cast 
your  beggar's  skin ;  transform  you  mto  something  ahnost  human  ; 
hire  you  apartments  in  the  Temple  ;  and  pass  you  on  my  master  for 
a  rich  usurer  —  a  damned  rogue : 

Grime.  Very  true ;  but  you  would  not  let  me  act  my  part.  You 
took  care  to  be  the  damned  rogue  yourself. 

/•'(,'/».  Have  I  not  trusted  you,  tutored  you,  taught  you  your  trade, 
and  furnished  the  tools  : 

Grime.     What  then  r 

Item.  And  do  you  pretend  to  bargain,  wrangle,  and  prescribe 
terms  to  me  r 

Grime.     Yes,  I  do. 

Item.     You  dor 

Grime.     I  do.     Help  yourself  how  you  can. 

Hem.     Here's  a  villain  I 

Grime.  You  trusted  me,  you  know ;  you  taught  me  my  trade,  and 
furnished  the  tools. 

Item.     You  viper  !     Sting  the  bosom  that  fostered  you  ? 

Grime.  I  follow  your  own  example.  Mr.  Mordent  fostered  you. 
There's  morality  in  it. 

Item.     O,  damn  your  morality  ! 

Grime.  Be  of  a  sweet  temper.  Time  was  I  was  your  slave  ;  yoi^ 
are  now  mine. 


34  THE  stewaud  ;  or,  [act  it. 

Item.     0,  the  rascal  —  the  infernal  rascal ! 

Grime.  I'm  too  docp  in  your  secrets  for  you  to  dare  discard  me  ;  so 
I'll  have  my  share. 

Item.     Your 

Grime.     Ay,  my  —  my  ftill  share ;  so,  be  sweet  tempered. 

Item,     And  who  is  to  tind  the  money  ? 

Grime.     You ! 

Item.     And  who  is  to  run  the  risk  ? 

Grime.     You  ! 

Item.     And  who  is  to  be  prosecuted  for  usury  and  collusion  ? 

Grime.  Cast,  perhaps,  for  perjury  —  whipped,  imprisoned,  and  put 
in  the  pillory.  '  You  ! 

Item.     And  yoii  to  run  away  with  half  the  profits  ? 

Grime.     Yes. 

Item.     Here's  justice  !     O,  what  a  damned  world  do  we  live  in  I 

Grime.     Y'our  fortime  is  made ;  you  must  now  help  to  make  mine. 

Enter  Jonathan  Winter,  unperceived,  l.  h.  d.  f. 

Item.     Here's  a  ■^'illain  ! 

Grime.     You  must,  or  I  tell. 

Item.     "What  will  you  tell  ? 

Grime.  All  —  all  the  usurious  tricks  you  haVe  practised  on  ^for- 
dent ;  the  arts  by  which  you  have  cheated  him  of  his  estates,  pretend- 
ing that  I  am  the  man ;  your  intention  to  foreclose ;  your  neglect  in 
not  paj^ing  yourself  interest,  purposely  to  rob  according  to  law  ;  your 
plots  to  ruin  Cheveril  ;  all  —  all ! 

Item.     Y''ou  vdll  tell  all  this? 

Grime.     I  will. 

Item.  {Seizing  Grime,  l.)  AVhy,  you  fiend!  you  superlative  vil- 
lain !  you  cutthroat  ! 

Grime.     {Seeiiiff  Winter.)     Hem !     {A  pause.') 

Item.  {Aside.)  Ah,  the  cursed  spy  1  —  {To  Winter.)  Ah,  good 
Mr.  Winter  !  here  is  my  old  friend,  Mr.  Grime,  has  —  has  —  {Anide 
to  Grime.)  Y'ou  see  what  your  villany  has  done —  {To  Winteu.) 
He  is  a  good-natured  soul,  as  vou  know.  {Aside  to  Grime.)  Scoun- 
drel I—  {To  Winter.)      And  he  —  I  —  I 

Win.  O,  yes,  yes — I  understand  ;  ye  needn't  trouble  yoursen  to 
explain.     Ye'er  a  sweet  nut,  if  ye  war  well  crackt,  I  warrant  ye. 

Item.  I  —  I  —  I  was  bantering  him  —  trying  to  —  {Aside  to 
Grime.)  Villain  !  —  {To  Winter.)  But  nothing  can  put  him  in  a 
passion.  —  {Aside  to  Grime.)  O,  curse  you  !  —  (Tu  Winter.) 
Nothing  !     Perhaps  you  want  our  good  master,  Mr.  \\  inter  ? 

Win.  Ecod  !  for  once  in  your  life  ye'er  right,  Mr.  Item.  I  do 
want  him,  and  quickly,  too. 

Item.  He  is  gone  out.  Nothing  but  a  joke,  Mv.  Winter  — nothing- 
else. 

Win.  {Asidi',  cUiiching  his  Jist.)  Damme  !  how  I  should  like  to 
have  one  thump  at  'em  ! 

Item.  Can  I  —  can  my  dear  friend,  Mr.  Grime, —  {aside  to  him,) 
O,  you  thirf !  —  {to  Winter,)  —  do  you  any  service  ? 


BCENE    I.]  FASHION-    AND    I'EELIXG.  36 

Win.  Come,  come ;  none  o'  your  hypocrisy  \vi'  me ;  'tvvon't  do, 
I  tell  ye. 

Item.     Can  we  oblige  you  any  way  in  the  world  ? 

Win.     Yes. 

Item.     {F.iumingly.')     How?  how? 

Wi7i.  Why,  by  taking  compassion  o'  the  bowels  o'  ye'er  brother. 
Jack  Ketch,  and  be  ye'er  own  hangman  !  (^^xit,  L.) 

It'/n.     There,  villain  !  you  see  what  you  have  done  ? 

Grime.  Is  it  my  fault  ?  I  tell  you  again,  you  had  better  be 
sweet  tempered.  I  shall  say  no  more.  You  know  my  mind.  (^Go- 
iitff.) 

Item.  (Aside.)  O,  that  I  could  poison  him!  —  {Aloud.)  ^Ir. 
Grime  !  Mr.  Grime  !  my  dear  Mr.  Grime  ! 

Grime.     Well,  Mr.  Item. 

Item.     This  quarrelling  is  very  fooUsh. 

Grime.     O ! 

I/em.     We  are  necessary  to  each  other. 

Grime.     I  know  it. 

Item.     Your  hand,  my  dear  Grime. 

Grime.     There. 

Item.     We  are  friends  ? 

Grime.     If  you  please. 

Item.  Well,  well !  —  (Aside.)  Damn  him  !  how  I  hate  the  dog  ! 
—  (^To  Grime.)     Concerning  this  Berkshire  mortgage? 

Grime.     Ay. 

Item.  You  shall  have  twenty  per  cent,  on  the  premium.  —  (^Aside.) 
I  must  quiet  him. 

Grime.     That  won't  do. 

Item.     (^Aside.)     Unconscionable  rascal !  —  (To  Grime.)     Thirty! 

Grime.     It  won't  do.     Half —  the  full  half. 

Item.  (Aiidc.)  Hell  take  him  ! — (To  Grime.)  Well,  well,  my 
dear  Grime,  the  half  be  it. 

Grime.  Together  with  my  moiety  of  the  thousand  given  with  Jo- 
anna, and  the  half  of  her  fortune — if  you  know  what. 

Item.  Your  —  hem!  (Siyhimj.)  You  shall  —  you  shaU.  Are 
you  sati-ified  ? 

Grime.     On  these  conditions. 

Item.     Where  is  the  deed  ? 

Grime,     In  that  bag. 

Item.  Mordent  is  coming ;  I  know  he  will,  for  I  know  he  shall, 
sign.     But  that  is  not  all. 

Grime.     What  more  ? 

Item.  This  damned  Yorkshireman  will  assuredly  betray  us  to  him  ; 
and  Lady  Anne's  jomture  prevents  his  being  so  entirely  destitute  and 
powerless  as  is  necessary. 

Grime.     But  how  is  that  to  be  helped  ? 

Item.  O,  we  must  let  her  relations  know  his  conduct;  they  will 
make  her  quit  hhn.  (L-))kiiig  njf,  l.)  Hush!  here  he  comes!  I 
will  give  you  my  reasons  and  instructions  when  we  are  alone.  Where 
is  the  deed  ? 

Grime.     Here,  ready.     (^Laying  it  on  the  table.)     Hem  ! 


36  THE  stewakd;  or,  [act  rv. 

Enier  Mordent,  l. 

Mor.  (^Anffrili/.)  What  is  the  meaning,  Mr.  Item,  that  I  see  the 
upholsterer,  and  two  other  ill-looking  followers  with  him,  below  ? 

Item.  Na}\  why  ask  me?  why  knit  your  brows  at  me?  Can  I 
coin  ? 

Mor.  Excuse  me.  I  am  a  hunted  bull,  and  butt  at  friends  and 
foes. 

Itetn.  The  insolent  fellow  insisted  on  taking  possession  ;  so,  think- 
ing you  would  not  wish  Lady  Anne  to  know,  I  prevailed  on  hiin  and 
the  oiPcers  to  remain  in  the  hall  till  I  could  speak  to  you.  K  I  have 
done  amiss,  show  nic  in  what. 

Mor.  No,  no  ;  I  know  your  zeal. —  (To  Gkimi;.)  Why  will  you 
not  advance  two  tliousand  pounds  for  that  and  other  immediate  pur- 
poses, and  delay  signing,  ^Ir.  Grime?     I  ask  only  a  day. 

Item.     Ay,  Mr.  Grime,  why  will  you  not  ?     Pray  do,  Mr.  Grime ! 

Grime.     (With  gravitij.)     Impossible! 

Item.  Don't  tell  me  —  impossible,  ituleed  !  You  ought  to  consent 
—  it  is  your  duty;  nay,  you  shall  consent!  Now  do  consent ;  rec- 
ollect how  much 

Grime.     I  cannot  —  must  have  security. 

Mor.  {Lnuf/hi/i;/ convulsireli/.)  Ila,  ha,  ha  !  —  (ToGiaME.)  Vil- 
lain !  where  is  the  deed  ? 

Item.     So  you  will  not,  Mr.  Grime  ?  you  will  not  ? 

Grime.  I  wish  I  could,  but  I  tun  myself  a  borrower;  the  money  is 
not  ray  owni. 

Item.     Hem ! 

Mor.  { Involuntarily.)  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Damn  your  rascally  hypoc- 
risy !     Give  me  the  pen. 

Item.     (Holdin(j  his  arm.)     Why,  you  will  not  sign,  sir,  will  you? 

Mor,  Peace,  fool !  Cannot  you  see  a  wretch  on  the  wheel  but 
that  your  bones,  ton,  must  ache?     (Item  quitting  him,  he  sigtis.) 

Item.  Ah!  it  is  always  thus!  I  may  advise,  but  my  advice  is 
never  followed. 

Mor.  {Sealing.)  "  I  deliver  this  as  ^ny  act  and  deed."  Here,  im- 
plement of  hell !  I  know  your  thirst,  bloodhound  !  'Tis  reudy-mixed 
destruction ;  take,  quaff,  and  burst  !     Begone  ! 

Item.  ( Seizing  the  deed.)  Come,  sir ;  my  good  master  has  sufficient 
reason  to  be  angry  with  you ;  it  was  very  unfriendly,  sir,  to  refuse. 
You  teach  Mr.  Mordent  what  he  has  to  expect.  —  (Aside.)  All  is  now 
secure  !  {Exeunt  Item  and  Gkime,  l.) 

Reenter  Jonathan  Winter,  l.  h.,  looking  earnestly  after  them. 

Win.     Ha'  ye  signed  ?  ha'  ye  signed  r 

Mor.     Ask  no  questions.     Yes ! 

Win.  Then  it's  all  over.  Well,  well.  Stark  deed  has  no  remeed, 
as  the  proverb  says.  Two  wolves  may  well  worry  one  sheep.  I  cam 
to  tell  ye,  that  ye'er  smooth  tongued  steward  and  his  companion, 
Grime,  are  about  two  of  the  greatest  scoundrels  as  ever  walked  on  two 
legs.     But  'tis  no  matter. 


SCENE    I.]  KASHIOX    AND    FEELING.  37 

Mor.     Pshaw  !  fool  ! 

Win.  I  tall  ye,  they  are  two  damned  villains  !  'Tis  nae  six  min- 
utes agone  sin'  I  heard  all  their  tcrrilyiiig  gab. 

Mo/:     Hear ! 

Win.     Yas,  hear ! 

3Ioi:     What  did  you  hear  ? 

Win.  Item  him.-^elf  confess  that  he  had  fleeced  ye  of  ye'er  estates; 
that  Grime  be  nae  mair  but  his  jackal ;  that  it  is  his  intention  to  fore- 
close ;  that  he  has  wilfully  negleettd  to  pay  himsel  interest,  for  that 
he  may  claw  ye  agreeably  to  law  ;  that  there  ha'  been  sham  deeds  and 
shameful  doings  ;  and  that  a  plot  is  laid  to  tikh  Maistcr  Cheveril  of 
aw'  his  wealth. 

Mo7:     (Laiiffhinff  coinndsiveli/.)     Ha,  ha,  ha  !     You  heard  all  this  ? 

Win.     Ay,  I  did,  wi'  my  own  cars. 

Mor.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Item  ?  Are  you  sure  you  heard  this  precious 
mischief  ? 

IFm.     When  did  Jonathan  Winter  tell  you  a  lie  ? 

Mor.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Item  ?  I  am  glad  on't !  'Tis  right  —  'tis  con- 
sistent—  'tis  dehghtful  !  {Frcintidi/.)  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Abraham's  re- 
jected prayer  —  not  one  honest  man  !     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Win.  Come,  come  —  fair  and  softly  :  not  you,  nor  the  black  clawed 
Lucifer  himsen,  can  deny  but  that  old  Jonathan  Winter  is  honest. 

Mor.  Item  r  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  And  I,  too  —  I  thought  him  just  and 
good.  O,  gull,  gull,  gull !  Ha,  ha,  ha!  {^Recollecting  himself.)  Tell 
Mr.  Clement  I  wish  to  speak  with  him. 

Win.     But  your  child  —  ha'  ye  heard  nothing  o'  her  r 

Mor.  ^ly  child  !  —  True  :  you  recall  another  agonizing  reflection  : 
'twas  to  this  villain  I  trusted  her. 

Win.  To  Item  r  to  old  Item  r  Then  Heaven  have  mercy  on  her, 
that's  all ! 

Mor.  Ah  !  I  see  at  once  —  his  horrid  plan  bursts  upon  me  !  He 
knew  of  her  legitimacy :  his  gains  ■^^■ere  not  secure  while  she  lived. 
Away  !  send  Clement  to  me. 

Win.     Ay,  noo  the  steed  is  stolen,  j-e  wad  lock  the  door. 

{Exit,  E.) 
Mor.     {Conmdsively.)     O,  the  sharp-fanged  wolf !  —  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Enter  Lennox,  l. 

Len.     ^Mordent,  how  now  ?  —  How  you  look  ! 

Mor.     I  am  an  ass  —  a  most  ineffable  ass  ! 

Lcn.     AVhat  is  the  matter  ? 

Mor.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !     'Tis  proved  upon  me. 

Len.     \o\vc  mirth  is  of  a  strange  kind. 

Mor.  The  man  whom  I  have  trusted  through  life  —  ha,  ha,  ha  ! 
—  he  whose  rigid  honesty  —  do  you  mark  me  .-  —  ha,  ha,  ha  I  — 
Honesty  ! 

Lea.     Well  ! 

Mor.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  Whose  honesty  made  me  sometimes  doubt 
the  truth  of  the  sclf-evidant  system  of  evil  —  ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  he's  a 
rascal !  a  double-leagued  hell-dog  ! 
4 


38  nir  stkavard  ;  or,  [act  tv, 

Len.      i^our  steward  ? 

Mor.  Item  —  a  deep,  damnable,  thorough-paced  villain  !  that  can 
bully,  cajole,  and  curse  —  tawn.  Hatter,  and  tilch  !     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Lea.     Be  patient. 

Mor.     O,  I  am  delighted  —  ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Len.  Be  calm  :  ycm  knew  yourself  to  be  in  the  power  of  a  villain, 
and  'tis  little  matter  whether  his  name  be  Grime  or  Item. 

Mor.  How  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  In  a  world  of  rascality,  are  not  two 
rascals  better  than  one  r 

Len.  Nay,  but  attend  to  me  :  I  want  your  help  instantly  at  Mrs. 
Penlold's. 

Myr.     {After  a  pause.)     Mrs.  Penfold  ? 

Len.     \  es. 

Mt»r.     {Recall  cting.)     It  must  not  be. 

Len.     Ahey  !   what's  the  Ireak  now  ? 

Mor.     {  WiLllj.)     You  can  have  no  help  of  mine  ! 

Leu.     {Ani/rili/.)     Indeed,  but  I  must. 

Mor.  {ii'tth  I'nniest  rapiditi/.)  I  would  not  commit  an  injury  on 
that  girl  lor  worlds  ! 

Len.  {  With  iucrcasfd  anger.)  Why,  what  conscientious  mum- 
mery is  this  r  You  neglect  your  own  child,  and  pretend  to  interest 
yourself  for  a  stranger  ! 

Mi)r.  If  the  stranger  be  an  angel  of  light  —  a  beneficent  being, 
•why  not  ? 

Ltn.     Beneficent  !  —  AYhat,  in  this  system  of  evil  ? 

Mor.     An  exception  to  the  rule  —  a  rare  exception. 

Len      Like  Item  r 

Mor.     Pshaw  !  —  Hell  ! 

Len.  And  may  not  yoiu:  deserted  daughter  be  equally  an  an- 
gel r 

Mor.  { Wildly.)  May  she  ?  If  she  should,  I'll  have  no  concern  in 
the  rum  of  that  girl. 

Len.  {With  suspicion  and  anger.)  Hark  ye.  Mordent:  I  suspect 
you  are  plotting. 

Mor.  I  !  —  'Tis  likely,  indeed,  at  the  moment  that  I  have  plunged 
into  such  a  gulf  as  tliat  which  now  surrounds  me,  that  I  should  be 
plotting  al;out  a  girl. 

Len.  WcU,  well,  it  may  be  so.  The  maid  of  the  house,  who  is  in 
my  interest,  tells  me  she  has  adopted  the  disguise  I  sent  her.  As  to 
you,  Mordent,  if  you  refuse  me  the  aid  I  have  a  right  to  expect  at  your 
hands,  you  must  no  longer  expect  my  forbearance.  Ponder  on  it  well, 
and  meet  me  instantly  where  your  larcsence  may  be  service  .ble  to  me. 
My  heart  Is  in  the  aifair  ;  and  woe  be  to  liim  \\  ho  stands  an  obstacle  in 
my  path  to  her  possession  !  -  {Exit,  l.) 

Min\  {Laugh iug  despundinglij.)  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  —  His  forbearance  ! 
—  Forbearance  ?  —  "Well,  well,  no  matter  :  friends  and  foes,  assist  him  ! 
Debt  has  made  me  his  slave,  and  why  should  I  stand  a  bulwark  in  the, 
way  of  destruction  r  why  stretch  forth  my  har.d  r  Is  there  one  lor  me 
to  gra'-p  at  ■  None  !  I  will  assist  him,  and  help  to  pull  down  the 
virtue  that  puts  my  own  vice  out  of  countenance.  {Exit,  k.  h.) 


8CENK    I.]  FASHIOX    AND    FEELIXG.  39 

Reenter  Joxatu.vn  "NVixter,  r.  3  E.  u. 

Win.  Ecod  !  this  poor  lass  runs  in  my  head  strangely ;  and  my 
heart  goes  thump,  thump,  wheuevir  I  think  on  her,  ^o  that  I  can't 
rest  ony  where.  'Tis  no  use  my  asking  old  Item  fairly  and  openly 
where  he  ha'  put  her,  because  he  wouldn't  tell ;  and  it  wouldn't  Ix; 
much  more  use  my  throttUng  him  to  get  it  out  on  him,  because  then 
he  couldn't  tell.     Eut  I'll  watch  him. 

Enter  Cheteril,  1  e.  l.  ii.,  in  great  haste,  searching. 

Well,  mon,  what  are  ye  looking  a'ter  ? 

Che.  My  dear  "Winter,  can  you  direct  me  where  Mr.  Item  or  Mr. 
Grime  may  be  found  r 

Win.  I  direct  ye  to  see  such  a  pair  o'  scoondrcls  ■  I  may  as  well 
tell  ye  how  to  catch  plague,  pestilence,  and  famine,  at  once.  I'm  a 
hunting  one  on  'em  my>el. 

Che.  'Sdeath  !  they  are  both  dead  and  buried,  I  believe;  for  they 
are  neither  here  nor  there,  nor  any  where  else.  —  Can  you  tell  me 
where  I  can  borrow  a  few  thousands  r 

Win.  Pray,  may  I  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  whether  ye  tak  me  for  a 
thief  or  a  steward  r 

Che.  I  shall  go  mad  1  O  Winter !  I  left  the  most  angelic  girl 
your  eyes  ever  beheld,  at  a  house  hard  by.  She  must  be  friendless 
and  fatherless,  exposed  to  the  arts  of  villains. 

Win.     (^Kajerhj.)     What's  that  ye  say  of  faitherless  angel  ? 

Che.     I  saw  her  first  in  the  Green  Park. 

Will.     Green  Park  I 

Che.     She  Ls  now  at  Mrs.  Penfold's.     A  divine  girl !  a  miracle ! 

Win.  What  ?  how  ?  a  lass  in  the  bloom  of  youth  —  a  yoimg 
creature : 

Che.  Xot  twenty  ;  yet  with  the  penetration,  wit,  and  understand- 
ing of  the  seven  sages. 

Win.     (A/itated.)     The  Green  Park  1  Penfold's  ! 

Che.     Hard  by. 

Win.     I  know  the  place —  I'll  be  a'ter  her  !     If  it  should  be 

Quickly,  old  Jonathan,  quickly  !  {Exit,  hastily,  l.  1  e.) 

Che.  ^^'hat  is  the  matter  with  the  honest  soul  ?  I  don't  know 
what  sum  may  be  necessary,  but  I  find  I  can  do  nothing  without 
money.  I  must  have  enough,  too,  for  I  must  make  sure.  I'll  place 
her  in  safety  and  splendor  ;  she  shall  be  my  queen. 

Enter  Item,  l. 

Ah,  my  dear,  dear  Item  !  I  am  the  luckiest  fellow  on  earth  —  am  in 
instant  want  of  money  ! 

Item.     So  am  I  —  I  have  been  in  want  of  it  all  my  life. 

Che.     You  must  furnish  me  with  ten  thousand  piouuds. 

Item.     Ten  thousand  !     Ah  !  I  wish  I  coukl  1 

Che.     'Sblood  !  don't  stand  wishing,  but  give  me  the  money. 

Item.     If  my  Iriend  Grime  was  but  here 


40  THE   STEWAKU  ;    OE,  [ACT    IV. 

Che.  'Sdeath  and  the  devil !  give  me  the  monej' !  I  shall  lose  her 
—  she'll  be  gone  !  I'll  make  over  the  seventeen  thousand  that  is  in 
Mordent's  hands  —  I  will,  by  Heaven  !  —  on  the  word  and  honor  of  a 
gentleman  ! 

Item.    The  seventeen  thousand  ! 

Che.     I  will. 

Itrm.     It  is  true,  I  have  cash  in  hand,  but  not  my  oa\ti. 

Che.     Zounds  !  never  mind  whose  it  is  —  let  me  have  it  ! 

Item.  "Why,  if  I  could  but  manage  the  matter  —  I  am  a  poor  old 
man,  and  it  would  be  a  little  lift. 

Che.     O,  damn  your  Uttle  lift ! 

Item.  You  are  sure  you  understand  ?  The  seventeen  thousand  — 
the  whole  seventeen. 

Che.     I  tell  you,  yes. 

Item.     The  risk  will  be  very  great. 

Che.     Do  you  doubt  my  word  ? 

Item.     No,  no  ;  but 

Che.     But  what  r 

Item.  Your  hand  -vn-iting,  on  a  stamp,  would  be  a  memoran- 
dum. 

Che.  You  shall  have  it.  Write  a  receipt  for  seventeen  thousand  : 
I'll  sign  it. 

i^Item  searches  out  an  account  hook,  and  lays  it  on  the  table,  then  takes 
out  another  book,  finds  a  stamp,  and  writes.) 

Item.  Ay,  this  k  the  thuig.  You  remember  the  risk  r  otherwise  it 
might  be  thought 

Che.     Give  it  me  ;  I  have  no  time  for  thinking. 

Item.     I  must  borrow  to  replace  it. 

Che.  Will  you  come  away,  and  let  me  have  the  money  ?  Come, 
come,  man  !     'iSdeath  !  will  you  despatch  ?  {^Going,  e.) 

Enter  Clement,  l.  1  e. 

Cle.     {To  Item.)     Do  you  know  where  Mr.  Mordent  is,  sir  ? 

Item.     No.  sir. 

{Exit  Cheyekil,  hurrying  Item  off,  r.,  who  puts  up  his  receipt  in  one 
book,  and  forgets  the  other  that  he  laid  upon  the  table.) 

Cle.  Mr.  Mordent  has  asked  for  me,  and,  unfortunately,  I  cannot 
find  him ;  I  fear  he  has  signed  the  mortgage.  O,  this  uncle  !  Never 
was  situation  so  excruciatmg  as  mine  !  Must  I  cast  off  all  ties  of 
blood,  become  his  accuser,  and,  as  the  world  would  call  it,  betray  my 
benefactor  ?  Besides,  what  have  I  to  reveal  ?  My  fears  and  my  sus- 
picions, unconnected  facts,  that  can  alarm  but  not  relieve  :  and  who  is 
it  that  I  should  thus  impotently  accuse .-  My  own  uncle  !  (Seeing 
the  book  on  the  table.)  Ha  I  what  have  we  here  r  As  I  live,  his  pri- 
vate account  book  I  The  verv'  thing  he  has  so  carefully  concealed 
from  all  inspection  !  —  What  shall  I  do  ?  Deliver  it  to  Mordent  ? 
What  may  be  the  consequences  r  Disgrace,  infamy,  and  —  Dread- 
ful thought  !  I  must  not  be  rash.  (Looking  off,  k.)  Hark  !  he's 
here  !     I  must  consider  well.  (Exit  with  the  book,  L,  1  E.) 


f 


BCENE   I.]  JASHIOX   AXD   FEELING.  41 

Reenter  Item  and  CnEVEiirL,  hastily,  r.  1  e.  —  Item,  trith  his  hair  on 
end,  runs  up  to  the  table,  friyhtened,  looks  over  it,  under  it,  and  every 
where. 

Che.     (Anxiotts  to  yet  him  away.)     You  see  there  is  no  book  there. 

Item.     ( IVith  terror.)     I  am  certain  I  had  it  in  my  hand. 

Che.  "\Ve  have  not  quitted  the  room  a  minute ;  nobody  can  have 
been  here  since. 

Item.     We  left  my  nephew  here. 

Che.     Well,  if  he  have  it,  'tLs  safe  enough. 

Item.  I  don't  know  that  —  I  don't  know  that  !  If  I  have  lost  it, 
I  shall  never  sleep  again  ! 

Che.     Come  away  1  —  you  have  it  somewhere,  locked  up  safe. 

Item.     No  :  I  laid  it  down  here  —  I  am  positive  of  it  ! 

Che.  Nay,  but  you  see  that  it  is  unpossible.  {Taking  his  arm.) 
Come  —  come ! 

Item.     If  it  be  gone,  I  shall  go  mad  ! 

Che.     Is  it  so  valuable  r 

Item.  (^Still  scarchiny  his  pockets,  the  table,  and  the  chamber.)  I 
would  not  lose  it  for  all  I  am  worth  in  the  world  ! 

Che.  {Elbounny  him,  but  not  rudely  at  first,  to  the  door.)  Come, 
come  !     What  did  it  contain  : 

Item.     My  soul  !  my  secrets  ! 

Che.  Well,  it  certainly  is  not  here.  You  must  go  —  you  shall  go  ! 
I'll  indemnify  you. 

Item.     You  can't. 

Che.  I  tell  you,  I  will.  (^Pushing  him  ojf.)  It  is  in  your  own 
room. 

Item.  I  hope  so  —  I  hope  so  !  ( Turning  back.)  But  my  heart 
misgives  me.     O  Lord  !  I  am  undone  1 

Che.     {Pushing  him  again.)     Will  you  go  ? 

Item.     {Turning.)     I  am  wretched  ! 

Che.     {Pushing  him.)     You  won't  ? 

Item.     {  Turning  again.)     I  am  ruined  I 

Che.     {Pushing  him.)     Will  you,  or 

Item.     {  Turning.)     I'm  lost !  I'm  dead  !  I'm 

Che.     {Violently  forciny  him  off.)     Furies  and  lire  !  begone! 

{Exeunt,  L.) 
Betnter  Mordext,  k.  1  e. 

Mor.  {Calling.)  Mr.  Cheveril  !  {Running  over  to  the  door.)  Mr. 
Cheveril !  'Tis  impossible  to  stop  him.  But  no  matter  ;  he  can  be  no 
further  interruption  to  Lennox,  who  says  he  is  certain  his  schemes  will 
succeed.  O  fortune  I  fcrtune  !  how  dost  thou  aid  the  plots  of  man, 
■when  destruction  is  his  object  !  And  I,  tuo,  have  calmly  permitted 
the  ruin  of  an  innocent,  who,  while  I  looked  and  listened  to  her,  I 
■would  have  lost  my  life  to  defend  ! 

Enter  Lady  Anne,  e.  1  e. 

Lady  A.     I  am  driven  upon  an  agonizing  task,  wliich  a  too  painful 
4  * 


42  THE    8TEAVAKD  ;    Oil,  [aCT    IY. 

sense  of  duty,  and  your  want  of  confidence,  only  could  oblige  me  to 
execute. 

Mor.  Proceed,  madam  ;  apologies  lor  feeling  or  for  inflicting  pain 
are  quite  unnecessary. 

La(/i/  A.  Would  it  -wore  to  Lc  avoided  !  —  But  you  have  left  me 
no  alternative.  You  have  a  daughter  :  I,  it  seems,  have  innocently 
been  the  cause  that  she  is  disowned  and  abandoned.  Of  this  I  cannot 
knowingly  consent  to  be  a  moment  guilty.  Our  separation  is  decided 
to  be  inevitable. 

Mor.     And  you  support  your  fate  with  patience  : 

Ladi/  A.     Patience  !  —  Na)-,  nay  ;  I  do  not  deserve  this  reproach. 

Mor.     You  deserve  !  —  Who  shall  dare  insinuate  it  ? 

Lady  A.  At  this  moment,  when  my  heart  a^cain  bursts  from  the 
bondage  in  which  it  has  been  inthralled,  and  plays  the  part  it  was 
wont  to  do  with  my  affections,  happy  days  and  past  endearments  rush 
upon  my  mind  with  sensations  unutterable.  As  I  was,  I  first  won 
your  heart  ;  had  I  remained  what  I  was,  time  might  have  recalled  it 
to  my  power.  But  I  find  too  late  that  I  have  wrecked  my  own  peace, 
at  the  moment  that  I  might  have  restored  yours. 

Mor.  (Much  7noi-rd.)  Madam,  I  —  I  —  I  request  I  may  be  tor- 
tured by  any  thing  but  your  candor. 

Lndi/  A.  The  total  absence  of  affection  on  your  part  was  sufficient 
to  torture  me,  and  to  drive  me  to  every  method  to  seek  relief ;  but  to 
be  the  cause  of  banishing  a  child  from  a  father's  arms  and  heart  —  to 
cast  her  an  oi-j:)han  on  a  tempestuous  world,  —  no  !  Whatever  my 
other  mistakes  may  have  been,  of  that  no  tongue  shall  accuse  me. 

Mor.     Ilight :  let  the  guilt  be  all  my  o\\-n. 

Ladi/  A.  And  now  I  have  one  last  request  to  make,  which  I  con- 
jure you,  by  all  our  former  affection,  not  to  deny.  The  settlements 
which  you  made  on  me  in  our  early  days  of  love  were  ample  :  in  the 
sincerity  of  affection  I  vowed,  if  ever  they  sliould  be  necessary  to  your 
happiness,  that  moment  they  should  again  be  yoxirs. 

Mor.      (Grcatli/ ai/itcUed.)     Madam 

Ladi/  A.  Nay,  nay,  I  will  not  be  refused.  All  the  first  years  of 
our  union  my  commands  were  obeyed  ;  once  more,  and  once  only,  I 
exert  the  prerogative  your  affection  then  gave  mc.  The  deeds  are  now 
in  Mr.  Clement's  possession  ;  he  will  restore  them  to  you. 

Mor.     ■{^Iiidignantly.')     Never  ! 

Lady  A.  Stop  !  beware  of  rashness  !  Y'ou  are  a  father,  and  have 
a  father's  sacred  duties  to  fulfil.  Take  home  your  daughter  ;  make 
her  V  hat  amends  you  can  for  the  desertion  of  a  parent's  love  ;  derive 
delight  from  her  innocent  lips  ;  let  it  sometimes  remind  you  of  those 
which  once  smiled  upon  you  with  such  fervent  affection. 

Mor.  {Aside.)  'Tis  too  much  !  Scorpions  could  not  sting  like 
this  ! 

Lady  A.  !Money  is  a  poor  vehicle  for  the  affections  of  the  soul  —  a 
contemptible  token  of  the  love  I  have  borne  you  ;  but,  such  as  it  is, 
lor  that  love's  sake,  give  it  welcome.  A  cold  adieu  I  cannot  take  — 
it  freezes  my  very  heart.  From  my  soul  I  ever  loved,  and  ever  shall 
love  I  Had  I  a  heaven  of  happiness  to  bestow,  would  you  but  deign 
to  accept  it  from  me,  it  should  be  yours  !  (  Exit,  E.) 


SCENS   I.]  FASHION    AND    FEF.LINU.  48 

Mor.  Why,  so,  so,  so  !  It  rages  —  it  bursts  —  it  is  complete  ! 
Let  fate  or  fiends  increase  the  misery  if  they  can  ! 

Reenter  Joxathax  Winter,  1  e.  l.  h. 

Win.  It's  past  —  it's  all  over  !  My  fears  and  forebodings  are  ful- 
filled !     I  hae  foond  her  —  I  hae  foond  her,  I  tell  ye. 

Mor.     Have  you  ?  where  ? 

Will.  Now,  indeed,  Jonathan  Winter  is  a  rascally  go-between  ! 
(^With  horror.)     But  what  arc  you  ? 

Mor.     You  say  you  have  found  her  ? 

Win.  She  is  gone  —  she  is  ruined  !  Ye' re  a  A\Tatch  !  the  most 
miserable  o'  wratches  ! 

Mor.  Tormenting  demon  !  What  —  who  —  Where  have  you 
been  r 

Win.     To  Mrs.  Penfold's. 

Mor.     (Seized  with  terror)     Penfold's! — What  do  you  say  ? 

Win.  I  was  too  late.  A  maister  scoondrel,  e'en  as  wicked  as  her 
own  feyther,  had  decoyed  her  into  his  domned  net  ! 

Mor.     (Distractedly.)     Decoyed  ! 

Win.     Lemiox  —  ye'er  friend,  ye'er  crony  ! 

Mor.     (With  horror.)     From  Mrs.  Penfold's  ? 

Win-     Haven't  I  toud  ye  ? 

Mor.     Lennox  !     Joanna  ! 

Win.  Y'es  ;  Lennox  —  Joanna  !  Let  it  rmg  in  your  ears  :  —  Jo- 
anna, ye'er  child  —  ye'er  guileless  Joanna  !  He  sent  her  a  disguise  ; 
she  ha'  put  it  on  ;  and  the  maid  do  say  ha'  gon'  off  with  Lennox. 

Mor.  (Franticly.)  Misery  of  hell !  And  was  that  Joanna?  that 
my  child  ?     Celestial  creature  !     Audi —     {A  pause  of  despair.) 

Win.     (Alarmed  at  the  agony  of  yio'B.D'E'ST.)     Sir  —  sh  !     Maister! 

Mor.  (Starting.)  I  almost  the  pander  !  Imagination  paints  her 
shrieking  on  the  bed  of  infamy,  and  chains  her  in  the  arms  of  lust ; 
and  I,  her  father,  knew  it,  stood  calmly  by,  and  did  not  prevent  it ! 
(A  pause  of  fixed  horror.) 

Win.  (With  great  feeling.)  Maister — dear  maister! — Maister 
Mordent !  dear  Maister  Mordent !  —  Speak  !  —  Izc  tbrgi'  ye.  Why, 
maister  !  Ize  pray  for  ye  —  Ize  die  for  ye  —  Ize  forgij  ye  ! 

Mor.  (Starting  from  a  profound  trance  of  despondency .)  Fly  ! 
summon  the  servants  !  arm  yourselves  !  —  Follow  me  ! 

(Exit,  hastily,  L.) 

Win.    (Confusedly.)    William  !   Sandy !  Jock  !     (Exit,  calling,  l.) 


END    OF   ACT    FV. 


44  THE  STEWARn ;   OK,  [act  v. 

ACT   V. 
Scene  I.  —  The  Green  Park.      Twilight. 

Enter  ^Moudent  and  Lenxox,  l. 

Mor.  Tell  mc,  aiid  tell  me  instantly,  -where  you  have  lodged 
Joanna  ? 

Len.     Nay,  sir,  where  have  you  lodged  Joanna  ? 

Mor.     Mr.  Lennox,  I  will  not  be  tritied  with  ;  where  is  she  ? 

Len.  Nor  will  I  be  tritied  with.  I  have  discovered  you,  Mr  Mor- 
dent ;  I  have  heard  of  your  visit  to  Mrs.  Penlold ;  of  that  old  villain 
Item's  iDart  in  the  a^air  ;  in  short,  of  your  whole  contrivance. 

Mor.     This  will  not  serve,  sir  ;  it  is  all  evasion. 

Len.  Ay,  sir,  it  is  evasion  —  cunning,  base,  damned  evasion  ;  and 
I  aliirm  she  is  in  your  possession. 

Mor.  ilr.  Lennox,  I  am  at  this  moment  a  determined  and  desper- 
ate man,  and  must  be  answered.     "Where  is  she  r 

Len.  Sir,  I  am  as  determined  and  desperate  as  yourself;  and  1 
say.  Where  is  she  ?  for  you  alone  can  tell. 

Mor.     'Tis  false  ! 

Lin.     False  ? 

Mor.     Ay,  ialse  ! 

Len.  {Going  up  to  him.)  He  is  the  falsest  oi  the  false  that  dares 
■whisper  such  a  word  ! 

Mor.  Hark  you,  sir  :  I  understand  your  meaning,  and  came  pur- 
posely provided.  {Produciwj  a  pair  of  2nstols.)  Take  your  choice  ; 
they  are  loaded. 

Len.  O,  with  all  my  heart.  {Presenting  at  some  distance.')  Come, 
sir  ! 

Mor.     {Ai^proaching  sternly.)     Nighcr ! 

Len.     {Going  towards  him  duspcrattdg.)     As  nigh  as  you  please. 

Mor.     {After  a  short  pause.)     "Why  don't  you  tire  r 

Len.  Why  do  you  turn  your  weapon  out  of  the  line  ?  {Dropping 
his  arm  —  a  pause.)  I  see  your  intention,  Mr.  Mordent  :  you  are 
tired  of  life,  an^J  M-ant  mc  to  murder  you.  Damn  it,  man  !  that  is 
not  treating  your  friend  like  a  friend.  Kill  me,  if  you  will,  but 
don't  make  mo  your  assassin  !     {Another pause  —  both  great! g  njfecied.) 

Mor.  {Tenderly.)  Nay,  kill  me,  or  tell  me  where  you  have  lodged 
the  A\Tetched  girl ! 

Len.  {  With  great  energy.)  Fiends  seize  me,  if  I  have  lodged  her 
any  where,  or  know  what  is  become  of  her  ! 

Mor.  Your  behavior  tells  me  you  are  sincere  ;  and  to  convince 
you  at  once  that  I  am  no  less  so,  know  she  is  my  daughter. 

Len.  {Wifh  astonishment.)  Your  daughter  !  Murder  my  friend, 
and  seduce  his  daughter  ! 

Moi:  {Deeply  ajfected.)  We  are  sad  fellows.  {They  pause,  and 
gradually  recover  from  the  dcp  pussi  >n  rci'h  which  tkey  were  mutually 
seized.)    Again  and  again,  'tis  a  vile  world  ! 


BCENB    I.]  FASHION'    AXD    rEELIN'O,  46 

Len.  {^Eagerhj.')  I'll  seek  it  through  with  you  to  find  her.  For- 
give me  ! 

Mor.     (^Taking  his  hand.)     Would  I  could  forgive  myself! 

Li-n.  (  Witli  iinimaiioii.)  But  it  seems,  then,  she  has  escaped,  and 
is  perhaps  in  safety. 

Mi/i:  O  that  she  were !  Winter  used  to  meet  her  here,  in  the 
Green  Park,  about  this  time  of  the  evening.  (^Listvning.)  I  hear 
the  sound  of  feet.  [Lo iking  off',  l.  s.  e.)  'Tis  not  a  woman.  Let 
us  retire  among  the  trees,  and  keep  on  the  watch. 

{Retiring,  3  e.  r.) 

Enter  Ciieveril,  l.  s.  e. 

Che.  {Locking  round  with  great  anxiety.)  She  is  not  here  !  She 
is  gone  —  forever  gone  !  I  shall  never  more  set  eyes  on  her  !  I'll  tire 
that  infernal  house — I'll  fire  London  —  I'll  pistol  I^ennox  !  I  may 
perambulate  here  till  doomsday,  and  to  no  jjur^  ose.  She  would  have 
beeu  here,  had  she  been  free.  Ay,  ay,  she  is  in  thraldom  —  perhaps 
in  the  very  gripe  of  vice.  Furies  !  —  Lennox  is  a  liar  !  I'll  cut  his 
throat — I'll  hack  him  piecemeal!  I'll  have  her,  or  I'll  have  his 
heart!      {Retires  among  the  irees,  L.  C,  searching.) 

Enter  Joanxa,  in  men's  clothes,  p..  2  e. 

Joa.  Whither  shall  I  fly  r  where  shall  I  hide  r  how  fly  the  pur- 
suits of  wicksd  men  r  I  liave  neither  house,  home,  nor  friend  on 
earth  ;  and  the  fortitude  that  can  patiently  endure  is  my  only  resource. 
What  then  ?  Have  I  not  escaped  from  those  sn.ares  which  vice  had 
spread  for  me!  O,  happiness!  I  have  —  I  have  !  and  rather  than 
venture  in  them  again,  welcome,  hunger  !  welcome,  cold  !  welcome, 
the  bare  ground,  the  biting  air,  and  the  society  of  brute  bea.«ts  ! 

Che.  {Coming  forirard.)  What  can  that  youth  want  r  Whom  is 
he  watching  here  ?     (  WaHung  round  Joanxa.) 

Jou.  As  I  live,  the  young  gentleman  I  saw  this  morning  !  What 
reason  can  he  have  for  being  in  this  place  r 

Che.     {Aside.)     lie  eyes  me  with  curiosity. 

Joa.     His  intentions  seemed  good. 

Ch^.  (/IvtV/e.)  Who  can  say  —  ho  may  know  her.  lie  is  a  smart, 
handsome,  dapper  fellow.     I  don't  like  him. 

Joa.  1  am  not  now  confined  by  walls  and  bolts  ;  there  can  be  no 
danger;  I'll  speak.     Pray,  sir 

CAe.     {Abruptly.)     Well,  sir? 

Joa.     Have  you  seen  a  young  person  ? 

Che.     {Eagerly.)     A  lady  ? 

Joa.     Yes. 

Che.  {Rapidfy.)  AVith  blue  eyes,  auburn  hair,  aquiline  nose, 
ivory  teeth,  carnation  lips,  ravislung  mouth,  enchantuig  neck,  a  form 
divine,  and  an  angel  face  ? 

Joa.     Have  you  seen  her  ? 

Che.     Are  you  acquainted  with  that  lady  ? 

Joa.     1  am  acquainted  with  a  lady,  but  not  an  angel. 


46  Tin;  STKWARD ;  OK,  [act  v. 

Che.  Ah,  then,  'tis  not  she  !  {Jeahusli/.)  Perhaps  you  are  her 
—  her  lover  r 

Joa.     Humph  !     I  —  I  love  her. 

Che.  Youdor  —  (^Aside.)  I'Ube  the  death  of  him  !  —  (7o  Joanna.) 
And  she  loves  you  ■ 

Joa.     Why,  yes. 

C/ie.  (Aside.)  I'll  put  an  end  to  him  !  — (7b  Joanna.)  Are  you 
married  r 

Joa.     No. 

Che.     You  —  you  mean  to  many  her  ? 

Joa.     No. 

Che.     I«  she,  then,  lost  to  virtue  ? 

Jaa.     "Who  dare  suppose  it  ? 

Che.     Ay  —  who  dare  ?     I'll  cut  the  villain's  throat  that  dares  ! 

Joa.     She  has  endured  insult,  constraint,  and  violence,  but  not  guilt. 

Che.  Guilt  !  —  Xo,  not  wilful  guilt  :  impossible  !  But,  then,  is 
she  safe  ?  is  she  safe  ? 

Joa.  Disowned  by  her  family,  exposed  to  the  snares  of  vice,  hou;e- 
less,  hopeless,  friendless,  not  daring  to  approach  the  wicked  haunts  of 
men,  she  wanders  forlorn  and  desolate,  willing  to  suffer,  disdaining  to 
complain. 

C/ie.  Tell  me  where :  I  will  rescue,  defend,  protect,  cherish,  love, 
adore,  and  die  for  her  ! 

Joa.     Is  your  heart  pure  ?  —  Have  you  no  selfish,  dishonest  purposes  ? 

Che.  How  came  you  to  imagine,  sir,  that  I,  or  any  other  man, 
durst  couple  her  and  dishonesty,  even  in  a  thought  ? 

Joa.     Sleet  me  here  to-morrow,  at  ten. 

Che.     You  r 

Joa.     You  shall  see  her. 

Che.     See  her  !  —  Shall  I  ? 

Joa.     You  shall. 

Che.  My  dear  friend  !  {Catching  her  in  his  arms.)  I'll  make 
your  fortune  !     At  nine  ? 

Joa.     Ten. 

Che.     Could  I  not  see  her  to-night  ? 

Joa.     To-morrow  Joanna  will  meet  you. 

Che.     Joanna  !  —  Is  that  her  dear  name  r 

Joa.     It  is. 

C/ie.  Delightful  sound  !  the  sweet  Joanna  !  the  divine  Joanna  ! 
My  heart's  best  blood  is  not  so  precious  as  Joanna  ! 

Joa.     But  pray,  where  do  you  live  ? 

Che.     Joanna  !  —  In  Portland  Place. 

Joa.     Your  name  r 

Che.  Joanna  !  —  Cheveril,  Hans  Cheveril.  Joanna  !  —  Be  sute 
you  don't  forget. 

Joa.  I'll  be  punctual.  (Mordent,  3  e.  e.  h.,  appears  am-wg  the 
trees.)     "Who's  here  ?  (Glides  off,  l.  2  e.) 

Chs.  Joanna  !  —  At  eight,  did  you  say  ?  Where  is  he  gone  ? 
Sir,  sir  !  (Exit,  hastily,  e.  s.  e.) 

Mor.  (Coming  forward.)  I  heard  the  name  repeated  !  —  (Aloud.) 
Who  is  it  here  that  knows  Joanna  ? 


SCENE    I.]  FASHIOX    AXD    FEELING.  47 

Joa.     (Appearing,  2  e.  l.  h.)     I  do. 

Mor.     Sir,  do  you  ?     Well,  and  what  —  -where  ?     Is  she  safe  ? 

Joa.     I  hope  so. 

Mor.     But  where,  sir,  where  ? 

Joa.  (Aside.)  'Tis  Mr.  Cheveril's  guardian  I — (To  Mordent.) 
Why  do  you  inquire  ? 

Mor.  For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,  do  not  torment  me  by  delay,  but  tell 
me  where  she  is  ! 

Joa.     I  must  not. 

Mor.     {Seizing  her  arm.)     But,  sir,  I  say  you  must  and  shall ! 

Joa.  (^Firmly.)  Sir,  you  mistake  if  you  suppose  menaces  can 
prevail. 

Mor.  Excuse  me  :  I  would  give  my  right  hand  to  know  what  it 
appears  you  can  tell.  " 

Joa.  I  can  tell  nothing,  till  I  am  first  made  acquainted  with  your 
true  motives. 

Mor.     And  ynW  you  inform  me  then  ? 

Joa.     Pro^'ided  I  am  certain  of  their  purity. 

Mor.  Know,  then,  that  I  pant  for  a  sight  of  her  once  more,  to  do 
her  the  little  justice  that  is  yet  in  my  power.  Know,  the  wrongs  she 
has  received  from  me  are  irreparable,  vile,  such  as  could  not  have 
happened  but  in  this  Avorst  of  worlds.  Know,  that  I,  her  natural 
guardian,  have  been  her  actual  persecutor  ;  that  I  drove  her  into  the 
danger  of  inlamy  ;  that  I  almost  became  the  agent  of  her  ruin  ;  and 
that  when  I  knew  the  engines  of  darkness  and  hell  were  at  work  to 
insure  her  everlasting  A\Tetchedness,  I  then  discovered  {^shuddering 
with  horror)  that  she  was  my  daughter  ! 

Joa.  Sir  !  your  daughter  !  You  —  you  her  fatlier  ?  —  you  my 
father  ? 

Mor.     Yes,  I. 

Joa.     {Falling  at  his  feet,  and  snatching  his  hand.)     My  father  ! 

Mor.  Can  it  be  r  —  My  child  —  my  Joanna  !  {Eagerly  raising  and 
regarding  her  again.)     It  is  —  it  is  !     {Falling  on  her  neck.) 

Joa.     My  father  ! . 

Mor.     My  child !     And  innocent  ? 

Joa.  As  your  own  wishes,  or  the  word  father  should  never  have 
escaped  my  Ups.  This  dress  was  the  disguise  conveyed  to  me,  by  which 
I  effected  my  escape.     I  can  suffer  any  thing  but  dishonor. 

Mor.  A  father  r  O,  I  do  not  deserve  thee  —  I  do  not  deserve  thee  ! 
{Gazing  rapturously  on  her.)  Once  again  let  me  fold  thee  to  my 
heart ! 

].en.     {  Without,  at  a  distance,  L.)     Zounds,  sir ! 

CJie.     {  Without,  l.)     I  insist,  sir  ! 

Joa,     1  hear  voices.  {They  retire,  R.) 

Enter  Cheveril  and  Lennox,  l.  2  e. 

Che.  O  for  swords,  daggers,  pistols,  blundcrbuses,  and  four-and- 
twenty  pounders ! 

Mor.     (3'o  Joanna.)     This  way  ! 

{Exeunt  Mordent  and  Joanna,  r.  h.  3  e.) 


48  iHE  STEWAiii) ;   ou,  [act  v. 

Lfi)i.  Confound  your  impertinent  freaks !  they  have  stopped  my 
moulh  this  half  hour.  I  would  have  told  you  all  I  knew  instantly, 
but  for  your  insulting  passion. 

C/w.     Did  not  you  hay,  you  would  not  tell  me  where  she  is  ? 

Len.     I  said,  I  could  not. 

Che.     Why,  thcie,  now  ! 

Leii.     But  I  suspect  I  can  tell  more  at  present,  if  you  will  but  hear. 

C/ie.  'Sdeath !  then  why  don't  you?  Speak!  why  don't  you 
speak? 

Lull.  Will  you  be  silent  ?  I  had  a  glimpse  of  Mordent  this  mo- 
ment in  conversation  A\ith  a  vouth. 

Che.     AVell. 

Len.     It  was  the  identical  dress  I  sent  as  a  disguise  to  Joanna. 

Che.     How !  I 

Len.     And  I  suspect  that  vrrj'  youth  to  be  Joanna  herself. 

C'Ac  {Recolh'ctiii'j  himself.')  Eh!  how?  By  Heaven,  and  so  it 
is  !     (  With  aiifjer  and  fear.)     In  the  possession  of  Mordent : 

Len.     Be  patient :  there  is  a  secret  —  his  claims  supersede  all  others. 

Che.     His  claims  !     By  every  power  of  heaven  and  hell 

Len.  {^Catching  his  arm.)  Be  patient,  I  tell  you.  She  is  his 
daxighter. 

Che.     (^  After  a  pause.)     Joanna  —  my  sweet  Joanna  his  daughter? 

Len.     Even  so. 

Che.  His  daughter  ?  Hurrah  !  My  dear  Lennox  !  —  {Hugging 
him  in  his  arms.)  Hurrah!  O  Lord  !  O  Lord  !  (Li  ecstasy.)  Hur- 
rah!    His  daughter?     Ilmrah  !  hunah  !  hun-ah  !         {Exeunt,  Jj.) 


Scene  II.  —  A  Boom  in  the  House  of  Mordent. 

Enter  Mordent  and  Joanna,  l.  1  i;. 

Mor.  My  dear  girl,  your  rare  endowments  surpass  my  hopes ;  and, 
convinced  as  I  am  that  beauty  is  destructive,  and  'i\"isdom  impotent,  I 
joy  to  find  you  thus  adorned. 

Jna.  Wait  to  know  me  better  ;  I  fear  you  would  prize  me  above 
my  worth. 

Mor,  How  shall  I  reward  it !  Fool  that  I  am !  madman  that  I 
have  been  I 

Joa.     (Rapturously  kissing  his  hand.)     Tliis  is  my  lich  reward ! 

Mor.  I  have  told  you  in  part  my  desperate  situation.  If  Grime 
would  but  give  honest  evidence  !  but  of  that  there  is  little  hope. 

Joa.  My  greatest  fear  arises  fi'om  what  yo\i  have  said  of  Lady 
Anne.     I  must  not,  will  not  be  the  cause  of  separation. 

Mor.  Let  mc  do  her  justice.  Her  errors  have  been  of  my  owni  cre- 
ation ;  I  have  spumed  at  the  kindness  I  did  not  desci-ve ;  her  for- 
bearance at  my  conduct  has  been  my  astonishment  and  my  torture. 

Joa.  O  that  I  could  see  you  recoucUtd  !  O  that  I  could  gain  the 
love  of  such  a  lady  ! 

Mir.  Of  that,  sweet  girl,  you  are  certain.  Lennox  is  with  her, 
and  by  this  she  knows  your  storj',  and,  I  am  sui"e,  adores  your  virtue. 


6CEXE    n.]  FASHION    AXD    I'KEIJNG.  49 

Ladij  A.     {Without,  v..)     Where  Ls  she  ? 
Mor.     I  heai-  her. 

Enter  L.vdt  Axxe,  k.  1  e. 

Lady  A.  (n.  c.)  O,  noble  girl!  {Uunning  atid  embracing  Jo- 
txxA.)  Forgive  tliis  rude  tumult  of  affection,  which  I  cannot  re- 
strain, 

Joa.     (c.)     Is  it  pcssible? 

Lady  A .  Mr.  Mordent,  -with  such  a  child  as  this  restored  to  your 
arms,  and  thus  restored  to  youi'self,  you  are  a  million  fold  more  dear 
to  me  than  ever. 

Mor,     (l.  c.)     I  cannot  bear  it  ! 

Lady  A.  "Will  you  be  my  daughter,  too  ?  Dare  ye  own  me  for  a 
mother,  and  find  in  my  heart  the  affection  of  that  one  you  have  lost  ? 
"SVill  you  r 

Joa.  Adversity  I  could  endvne,  but .  this  unhoped-for  tide  of  bless- 
ings overpowers  me. 

Mor.     O,  how  I  hate  myself ! 

Lady  A.  No,  no  —  'tis  not  yourself  yoii  hate  ;  'tis  that  life  which 
never  emanated  from  yourself.  Be  but  the  Mordent  who  first  Avon 
my  love,  exert  but  the  energies  and  feelings  of  yom-  own  heart,  and 
you  will  find  the  power  to  be  great  and  good. 

Enter  Cheveril,  l.  1  e. 

Che.  {Running  to  Joamna.)  My  life  !  my  soul !  my  precious 
Joanna  ! 

Mor.  They  will  persuade  nie  presently  that  happiness  is  possible. 
You  have  cause,  child,  to  thank  iSIr.  Cheveril. 

Joa.     O,  yes ;  he  has  a  heart  of  the  noblest  stamp. 

Mor.     Ay,  every  body's  right !     All  angels  except  myself! 

Che.  Come,  come,  guardian,  dismiss  these  sombre  reflections  ;  they 
have  plagued  you  long  enough.  Clement  is  in  eager  search  of  you,  to 
communicate  secrets  of  the  utmost  importance  conccming  his  uncle 
Item. 

Mor.     The  villain ! 

Che,  Yes,  I  hear  him —  he  is  below,  half  distracted,  foaming  with 
rage,  and  accusing  every  sers'ant  in  the  house  with  having  stolen  his 
book.  Pray  keep  back,  my  sweet  Joanna,  but  for  a  moment ;  and  we 
may,  perhaps,  have  evidence  fi-om  his  own  lips.  {Exeunt,  r.) 

Enter  Item,  c.  d.  f. 

Item.  (Looking  about  eageriy.)  'Tis  gone  —  'tis  lost!  I  am  un- 
done —  I  am  murdered  —  am  betrayed  !  I  shall  be  prosecuted,  pil- 
loried, fined,  cast  in  damages,  obliged  to  pay  all,  to  refund  all,  to 
relinquish  all !  —  all  —  all  —  all  !  —  I'll  hang  myself !  I'll  drown  my- 
self !  I'll  cut  my  throat !  ^Mordent  has  got  it  I  all  my  secrets,  all  ray 
projects,  all  my  rogueries,  past,  present,  and  to  come  !     O  that  I  had 

never  been  bom  !     O  that 

5 


CO  THE   STliWARD  ;    OR,  [ACT  V. 

Enter  Clemknt,  i,.  1  v.. 

Item.  {Running  in  him.)  Have  you  seen  my  book? — Give  it  to 
me  !  —  Where's  my  book  r 

Ck:     What  book  r 

Item.  My  aeeount  book — my  secrets  —  myself — my  soul — my 
heart's  blood !  (iScfc*;/^  Clement's  cow^  lap,  and  searching.)  I  have 
it !  'tis  here !  I  feel  it ! 

Cle.     {^Disengaging  himself.)     Yes,  sir, 'tis  here;  be  pacified. 

Item.  {Assaulting  him.)  I  won't  —  I  won't!  I'll  have  it!  — 
Give  it  me  !  —  I'll  swear  a  robbery  —  I'll  have  you  hanged  ! 

Cle.  {Taking  a  book,  sealed  up,  out  of  his  coat  pocket.)  This  book, 
sir,  I  consider  as  a  sacred  trust  ;  and  part  with  it  to  you  I  must  not. 

Item.  You  shall  part  with  it,  villain  !  you  shall  !  {Seizing  him 
furiously.)     I'll  have  your  soul  !  —  'tis  mine  !  —  I'll  have  your  heart ! 

—  'tis  mine  !     I  will  have  it  !  I  will  have  it  !  I  will  have  it ! 

Cle.  {Throioing  him  off.)  You  shall  have  my  heart,  life,  and  soul 
first! 

Item.     {Falling  on  his  knees.)     My  dear  nephew — my  good  boy 

—  my  kind  Clement  !  I'll  supply  all  your  wants  !  I'll  pay  all  your 
debts  !  Ill  never  deny  any  thing  you  ask  !  I'll  make  yoi}  my  heir  ! 
You  shall  marry  my  patron's  daughter  —  possess  her  fortune !  Now 
give  it  me  — I'm  sure  you  will ! 

Cle.  You  are  the  agent  of  Mr.  IMordent,  whom,  I  fear,  you  have 
deeply  wronged.  I  have  a  painful  duty  to  perlbrm,  but  justice  must 
be  obeyed.     Nothing  must  or  shall  bribe  me  to  betray  an  injured  man. 

Item.  I'll  give  you  ten  thousand  pounds  —  I'll  give  you  twenty  — 
I'll  give  you  Hfty  !  Would  you  rob  and  ruin  your  uncle  ?  —  Would 
you  put  him  in  the  pillory  r  —  Would  you  see  him  hanged  ?  (Seizing 
him  again.)  Villain  !  I  will  have  it !  —  'tis  mine  !  I  will  —  I  will ! 
Thieves  !  robbers  !  murder  !  fire ! 

Enter  Mordext,  Lady  Axne,  Lenxox,  Joaxna,  Cheveril,  Jonathai^ 
WiXTER,  and  Grime,  r.  1  e. 

Mnr.  {Having  received  the  book,  from  Clement.)  I  am  glad,  Mr. 
Item,  that  yoixr  inattention,  and  your  nephew's  inflexible  honesty, 
have  afforded  me  the  means  of  doing  myself  justice.  This  is  all  I 
require. 

Leti.  Here  is  a  double  testimony  —  your  handwriting  and  your 
agent. 

Item.     {  To  Grime.)     Have  you  impeached,  then  ? 

Grime.     I  am  a  villain,  a  rascal,  a  cutthroat ! 

Mor.  You,  Mr.  Clement,  and  you,  Winter,  I  know  not  how  to 
repay. 

Joa.     (To  Winter.)   My  watchful  guide !  my  never-failing  friend ! 

Che.  {To'Wtnter,  taking  his  hand.)  Your  hand,  old  boy  !  you  and 
I  must  settle  accoimts.  I  am  I  know  not  how  many  score  pounds  a 
year  in  your  debt. 

Mor.     What,  then,  am  I  ? 

Joa.    And  I  ? 


SCEXE  II.]  FASHION-  .VXD  FEELIXG.  51 

Win.  If  you  -wad  pay  old  Jonathan  "Winter,  it  mustn't  be  wi'  ye'er 
dirty  money ;  no,  no.     It  niun  be  v,i'  your  ati'cctions. 

Joa.  True,  my  noble  protector  !  (  Takiny  Ids  hand,  and  kissing  it 
f.rcenthj.) 

Win.  Why,  now,  ay  !  that's  a  receipt  in  full ;  and  it  maks  my 
heart  gi'  sic  a  bang,  as  it  han't  had  sin'  you  war  lost ! 

Mor.     Honest,  ■worthy  soul  !     And  now  to  reconcile 

Che.  Come,  come,  make  no  speeches ;  I"ll  settle  the  business  —  I 
am  the  proper  person.  I  have  eight  thousand  a  year,  and  ten  thou- 
sand in  my  pocket.     Ten  !     (  To  Item.)     Is  it  ten  or  seventeen  ? 

Item.     Seventeen  ! 

Joa.  {To  Item.)  AVhat,  not  a  word  for  your  pretty  Joanna?  not 
a  word,  Mr.  Item,  against  the  young  whipper-snapper,  and  in  favor  of 
persons  of  your  own  age  ? 

Item.  (Aside.)  Entrapped  —  betrayed  in  every  quarter!  The 
man  whom  I  raised  from  squalid  ])ovcrty ;  the  nephew  whom  I  have 

supported ;  the  woman  who Ha  I  may  the  curses  of  Item  mingle 

■with  their  triumph  !  (}sIordf.st  (jazes  at  him  —  his  features  turn  from 
mnlecolence  to  obsequiousness.)  Mr.  Mordent,  don't  be  too  hasty  — 
don't  condemn  me  unheard  ! 

Mor.  Away,  serpent !  betrayer  of  my  dearest  confidence  !  I  can- 
not look  on  thee  without  horror,  when  I  think  on  what  might  have 
been  the  consequences  of  your  villany.     A^^^ay  ! 

Item.  (Aside,  looking  all  round.')  No  hopes  from  subterfuge. 
Then,  law,  I'll  try  thee  !  (Exit,  l.) 

Che.  Good  by,  old  Cent  per  Cent !  waddle  away  like  a  lame  duck 
from  the  Exchange,  leaA'ing  behind  you  happiness  above  par,  and 
roguery  at  a  discount !  Lennox,  as  a  bachelor's  penance,  shall  marry 
his  housemaid.  —  (To  Grime.)  You,  old  Moloch,  go  hang  yourself  ! 
Joanna,  my  queen  of  the  Green  Park,  you  must  be  my  wife ;  Mordent, 
you  must  be  my  father ;  Lady  Anne,  you  must  be  my  half  mamma. 
Eight  thousand  a  year  shall  settle  scores  with  Clement  and  old  Hon- 
estv  here ;  so  away  ^^■ith  frowns,  and  welcome  smiles  —  smiles  that 
■will  never  be  wanting  while  we  can  reflect  them  from  those  where 
their  appearance  is  most  welcome ! 


Grime.      Wix.      Len.      Joa.      Che.      Lady  A.       Moe.       Cle. 

E.]  [L. 

CURTAIN. 


THE     MINOR      DRAMA. 

THE    ACTIXG    EDITION. 

No.  CXXXIX. 


IS   HE    JEALOUS? 


A  FABCE,  IN  ONE  ACT. 


BY    BK^^SKLEY. 


TO  WRICR  ABC  A.CDED 

A  DejcrlpUon  of  the  Costume— Cist  of  the  Characters— Entrances  and  Exit*  > 

Belattve  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and 

the  whole  of  the  Stage  Business. 


A3    PERFORMED    AT    THE    PRIXCIPAIi 

ENGLISH  AND  AMERICAN  THEATRES. 


NEW-YORK: 

SAMUEL      FRENCH, 

122  Nassau  Street,  (Up  SrAiRS.) 


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IS  HE  JEALOUS1 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — A  Drawing -Room  in  Belmour''s  House — a 
door  leading  to  Belmour^s  study,  r.  f. — another,  lead- 
ing to  Mrs.  Belmour's  boudoir,  l.  f. — a  pianoforte — a 
sofa,  c. — a  light  nearly  expiring  on  the  table — a  win- 
dow, looking  into  the  street,  l.  s.  e. — day-light. 

Rose  discovered  sleeping  upon  the  sofa,  with  her  work  in 
her  hands. 

Belmour.  [Ringing  the  bell,  and  calling  from  his  study, 
R.  F.]   Williams  !  Williams  !  Williams  I  I  say  ! 

Rose.  [  Waking  and  gaping.']  Eh  !  what  ?  my  master 
calling  ?  Why,  it  is  day-light,  as  I'm  alive,  and  my  mis- 
tress not  yet  returned  1  Ah !  if  my  master  were  awa- 
kened thus  early  by  love  instead  of  study  ! — But  there  he 
sits  in  that  room  among  his  musty  old  books,  while  he  suf- 
fers my  handsome  mistress  to  spend  all  her  time  by  her- 
self in  that  pretty  boudoir  of  hers,  from  which  he  can  al- 
most hear  her  sigh  for  him  ;  yet  they  say  he  loves  her. — 
Well,  I  can't  think  it,  or  he  would  never  see  with  indif- 
ference the  young  and  handsome  Mr.  Percival  perpetually 
with  her,  at  the  theatre,  balls,  and  every  where.  — 
Wrapped  up  in  study,  he  seems  to  forget  that  even  my 
mistress  is  flesh  and  blood.  He  defied  her  yesterday  to 
make  him  jealous,  and  swore  it  was  impossible  he  could 
ever  be  so.  \_Gaping.']  Oh,  lord  1  I  am  ver.y  sleepy  ! — 
While  ladies  are  dancing  away,  they  seldom  think  of  their 
poor  ser^'ants,  who  are  sitting  up  for  them  at  home. 

[^Rising 
SONG.— Rose. 

Oh,  would  I  were  some  lady  bright. 
To  dance  away  the  live  long  night, 

Through  pleasure's  maze  to  roam  I 
In  opera,  ball,  or  masquerade. 
Instead  of  lowly  waiting-maid. 

To  gape  away  at  home. 


10  IS  HE  JEALOUS  ?  [_ACT  I. 

Oh,  then,  how  gay  to  dance  away 
To  opera,  ball,  or  crowded  play, 

Deck'd  out  in  gaudy  clothes  ! 
To  dance  and  shine  so  gay  and  finev 
And  make  a  thousand  lovers  pine 

To  win  the  heart  of  Rose  ! 
While  waltzing  here,  chasseingtherc^ 
•Twould  be,  "  Was  ever  girl  so  fair. 

So  fair  and  fine  as  Rose  !" 
Partners  pleasing— fingers  squeezing 
Now  poussetting,  now  coquetting ; 
Through  fan  spying,  lovers  sighing,— 

Was  ever  bliss  so  rare 
As  waltzing  here,  chasseing  there ; 
While  each  one  says,  "  No  girl  so  fair* 

So  fair  and  fine  as  Rose !" 

Well,  this  is  the  first  time  my  mistress  has  ever  stayed  out 
in  this  way,  however  ;  perhaps  she  may  at  last  give  him 
cause  to  be  jealous.  Yes,  yes,  with  the  Argus  eyes  of  a 
wa->ting-maid,  I  see  how  it  will  end  :  intrigue,  plot — I  see 
it  all !  \_A  noise  heard  in  the  study."]  Ah,  he  is  coming ! 
I  must  not  for  the  world  let  him  know  my  mistress  has 
been  out  all  night. 

Enter  Belmour,  r.  d.  f.,  with  a  volume  in  his  hand. 

Bel.   [^Reading.']    "  Trifles,  light  as  air, 

Are  to  the  jealous  confirmations  strong 
As  proofs  0/  holy  writ." 
This  axiom  is  indeed  a  just  censure  upon  the  weakness  of 
a  jealous  mind :  and  does  Elizabeth  suppose  mine  could 
ever  admit  of  such  a  feeling  ?     Never  I 

Rose.   [Aside.]   Don't  be  too  sure. 

Bel.  (r.  c.)  That  husband  is  indeed  deserving  of  pity, 
who,  harbouring  suspicion  in  his  breast,  turns  an  indefati- 
gable  Argus  in  his  anxious  watchings,  and  becomes  the 
very  shadow  of  his  wife. 

Rose,  (c.)  True,  sir;  too  much  suspicion  may  offend 
our  sex,  but  too  great  security  is  quite  as  displeasing  to 
us,  I  assure  you.  The  husband,  whose  jealousy  would 
see  every  thing,  exposes  himself  to  the  danger  he  fears ; 
but  he  who  sees  nothing,  exposes  himself  still  more.  To 
speak  plainly,  sir,  I  think  you  play  a  hazardous  game. 

Bel.  To  any  one  but  me.  Rose,  I  confess,  your  opinion 
might  be  applicable  ;  but  I  know  my  Elizabeth  :  if  she  be 
occupied  by  gaieties,  they  are  innocent ;  she  pursues  them 
to  amuse  herself,  not  to  deceive  me.  Ought  I  to  trans* 
form  the  marriage  ring  into  a  chain  of  bondage  ? 

Rose.  Certainly  not,  sir. 


SCENE  I.]  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  11 

Bel.  She  always  returns  early,  and  quits  the  giddy 
throng  with  favourable  dispositions  towards  the  retirement 
of  her  own  home.  My  friend  Percival,  who  knows  so 
well  how  to  combine  amusement  with  philosophy,  always 
attends  her. 

Hose.   [Aside.'\   Lord,  lord  !  was  ever  such  a  man  1 
Bel.  May  I  wake  your  mistress,  Rose  ? 
Rose.  It  is  yet  very  early,  sir ;  my  mistress  was  very 
tired  last  night,  sir.     Pardon  me,  sir,  but  I  think  she  had 
better  sleep  a  little  longer,  sir. 

Bel.  I  will  wait,  then,  till  she  rings. 
JRose,  [Aside.^  You  will  wait  some  time,  tnen,  fancy. 
Bel.  No,  no :  a  few  hours  spent  in  amusement,  at  her 
age,  preserve  and  occupy  the  elasticity  of  youth  ;  and  you, 
for  such  a  trifle,  would  have  me  jealous  I  I  am  as  sure  of 
my  wife  as  I  am  of  myself;  our  love  and  confidence  is 
mutual.  She  sleeps  beyond  her  usual  hour  this  morning  ; 
I  must  steal  silently  to  her  pillow,  and  snatch  one  kiss 
from  her  rosy  lips  as  she  sleeps. 

Sose.  [^Stopping  him.']  Oh  no,  sir,  you  had  better  not : 
my  mistress  was  very  tired  when  she  went  to  bed — she 

was,  indeed,  sir ;  and,  besides,  she  had  a — a 

Bel,  Well,  well ;   I  will  not  disturb  her. 
Rose.   \_Aside.'\   Thank  heaven  1 

Bel.  I  will  occupy  myself  till  she  awakes  with  this  pro- 
blem, which  Percival  has  given  me  to  solve  ;  he  has  found 
it  too  difficult.  \^Sits,  and  reads 

Rose.   lAside."]   Lord,  lord!  I  wish  he'd  go!    [Aloud.] 
You'll  be  less  interrapted  in  your  study,  sir. 
Bel.  No,  no,  I  am  very  well  here  ;  be  quiet. 
Rose.   [Aside.]   That  he  may  occupy  himself  with  his 
wife,  Mr.  Percival  gives  my  master  a  more  difficult  pro- 
blem to  solve  than  woman  ;  while  he — Oh,  I  see  it  all ! — 
[^A  noise  of  a  carriage  heard  without — Rose  looks  out  of 
the  window,  l.]   As  I  am  alive,  my  mistress  !     What  shall 
I  do  now  ?   [To  Belmour,  anxiotisly .]   You  would  be  much 
better  in  your  own  room,  sir — indeed  you  would  ! 
Bel.  No,  no  ;  let  me  alone. 

Rose.   [Aside.]  The  devil  take  the  problem  !     My  mis- 
tress will  come  in; — all  will  be  known  1     Oh,   I  see  it  all  i 
[Aloud.]  The  servants  will  be  wanting  to  clean  the  room, 
sir,  and  you'll  be  in  the  way.     [A  knocking  at  the  door,  i» 
Bel.  Ah  1  who  can  that  be  so  early  ? 
Rose.   [Aside.]   I  shall  die  of  fright  1 
Bel.  See  who  it  is,  Rose. 


12  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  [aCT  I. 

Rose.  It's  nobody,  sir. 

Bel.  Oh,  let  him  ia. 

Rose.  'Tis  some  mistake — some  runaway  knock,  sir, 
most  likely. 

Bel.  Look  who  it  is,  I  say. 

Rose.  It  is  Mr.  What's-his-name  ? — Mr. — Oh,  lord  I 
I've  forgotten  his  name. 

Bel.  IRisinff  and  going  towards  the  window,  but  is 
stopped  by  Rose."]   I  must  see  myself,  then. 

\_Knocking  heard  again. 

Rose.  It  is  Mr.  Percival,  sir, 

Bel.  Ah,  anxious  about  his  problepi,  I  suppose :  he 
never  suffers  his  pleasures  to  interrupt  his  studies.  I  am 
nearly  ready  for  him.  [Knocking.'\  I'll  to  my  study  for  a 
pen.  Quick  !  run  and  admit  Mr.  Percival ;  I  will  be  with 
him  in  a  few  minutes.  [Exit  into  his  study,  r.  d.  f. 

Rose.  Thank  heaven,  he  is  gone  I 

Mrs.  Belmour.  [  Without,  l.]  I  believe  you  are  right, 
Mr.  Percival ;  I  will  follow  your  advice.  Send  her,  there- 
fore, the  moment  she  arrives ;  make  haste,  or  you'll  be 
too  late.     Farewell ! 

Rose.  Ah  1  she  dismisses  Mr.  Percival  in  haste ;  she 
fears  lest  my  master  should  see  him.  Oh,  it  is  cleax — I 
see  it  all  I     Poor  Mr.  Belmour  1 

Enter  Mrs.  Belmour,  i,. 

Mrs.  B.  Why,  all  the  men  were  asleep,  I  think.  I 
knocked  three  times. 

Rose.   [In  a  low  tone."]   Hush,  ma'am  I  speak  lower. 

Mrs.  B.    [Loztdly.]   Speak  lower  ! — For  what  reason  ? 

Rose.  [Pointing  to  the  door  of  the  study.']  My  master 
is  there,  ma'am. 

Mrs.'B.  Ah  !  in  his  study  so  early  ?  What  can  engage 
such  particular  attention  ? 

Rose.  A  problem,  madam. 

Mrs.  B.  He  is  a  problem  himself,  I  think.  Do  you 
know  why  he  did  not  join  me  at  Mrs.  Wildishes'  ball  ? 

Rose.  He  was  hard  at  work  with  his  books.  , 

Mrs.  B.  Books,  books !  nothing  but  books  1  They  are 
his  business,  his  pleasure,  his  every  thing.  Was  he  un- 
easy at  my  absence  ? 

Rose.  Not  at  all,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  B.  Did  he  sit  up  for  me  long  ? 

Rose.  Ob,  no,  ma'am;  he  went  to  bed  at  bis  usual 
hour. 


i 


SCiJNE  1.1  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  13 

Mrs.  B.  Heigho !  what  a  strange  mortal  1  Has  he  en- 
tered my  apartment  this  morning  ? 

Ross.  [^Cunningly.']  Oh,  no,  ma'am :  he  wished  it,  but 
I  knew  how  to  hinder  him. 

Mrs.  B.  Hinder  him  !  —  And  why  should  you  hinder 
him  ? 

Rose.  {Mysteriously. 1  I  told  him  you  were  asleep, 
ma'am. 

Mrs.  B.   {Loudly,  and  surprised.]  Asleep  ! 

Rose.  Yes  yes  :  for  heaven's  sake,  speak  lower  ! 

Mrs.  B.  What  I  I  have  passed  the  night  out,  and  he 
does  not  even  know  of  it  ? 

Rose.  No,  madam ;  he  has  not  the  least  idea  of  such  a 
thing,  I  managed  it  so  well. 

Mrs.  B.  [Angrily  and  proudly.]  And  by  what  autho- 
rity did  you  use  this  management  ?  Did  I  order  you  to 
be  silent  ?  Know,  for  the  future,  that  such  conduct  is  in 
the  highest  degree  displeasing  to  me  ;  and,  if  you  value 
my  favour,  you  will  never  repeat  it. 

Rose.  [Aside.]  Was  ever  such  ingratitude  I  [AloudJ] 
Lord,  ma'am  1   I  thought  to  oblige  you  by  it. 

Mrs.  B.  You  have  seriously  oflFended  me. 

Rose.  Ah,  madam,  pray  pardon  me  ;  such  an  intention 
was  the  farthest  from  my  thoughts,  believe  me. 

Mrs.  B.  Remember,  for  the  future,  that  nothing  mys- 
terious must  ever  attach  itself  to  my  conduct. 

Rose.  No,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  B.  Mystery  implies  guilt,  and  authorizes  suspicion. 

Rose.  Yes,  ma'am. 

M7'S.  B.  To  atone  for  your  fault,  go  instantly  and  tell 
Mr.  Belcour  that  I  am  but  this  moment  arrived.  Do  you 
hear  me  ? 

Rose.  Ma'am  1 

Mrs.  B.  Obey  me,  then,  instantly. 

Rose.  Yes,  ma'am.  [Aside.]  Oh,  lord !  was  ever  such 
a  woman  ?  [Exit  angrily  into  the  study,  R.  d.  f. 

Mrs.  B.  It  is  but  too  plain  :  neither  to  come  to  me,  nor 
to  wait  for  me  1  to  sleep  peaceably  in  my  absence  !  to  leave 
me  a  whole  night  besieged  by  a  thousand  coxcombs ! — 
Free  from  all  suspicion,  and  happy  in  his  solitary  pursuits, 
in  his  learned  retreat  he  forgets  his  Elizabeth.  Heigho ! 
I  can  suffer  it  no  longer :  in  cultivating  the  head,  he  for- 
gets the  heart.  I  must  try  and  rouse  him  from  this  le- 
thargy of  indifference ;  yes,  Percival,  I  will  follow  your 
advice — I  will  try  him  :  my  sister,  who  arrives  this  day, 
» 


14  ISHEJEAIiOUS?  IaCT  I. 

will  answer  my  purpose.  Let  me  see  what  time  she  will 
be  here.  [Talcing  out  a  letter,  and  reading  it."]  "  At 
length,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  I  have  settled  my  late  husband's 
affairs.  I  am  free,  am  arrived  in  England,  a  young  and 
not  unhandsome  widow.  My  old  general,  you  know,  teas 
my  father's  choice;  my  next  shall  be  my  own.  Obliged 
to  travel  alone  on  the  Continent,  where  such  things  are 
not  so  uncommon  as  in  our  own  prudent  country,  I  have 
made  my  journey  in  disguise ;  and  being  yet  unwilling  to 
put  off  what  are  frequently  the  only  attributes  upon  which 
the  other  sex  claim  their  superiority,  I  will  show  you  what 
a  spruce  beau  your  sister  Harriet  makes,  before  J  resume 
my  own  clothes.'^  Ah,  spruce  enough,  my  wild  sister ! — 
The  very  thing  to  play  the  part  of  a  dangerotis  lover. 
[Reading.']  "  I  shall  be  at  home  on  the  lOM,  early  in  the 
morning,  where  I  shall  expect  you  to  welcome  me — your 
sister  Harriet."  This  is  the  very  morning:  Percival  is 
gone  to  meet  her,  and  explain  our  plan  ;  and  heaven 
grant  that  I  may  be  made  happy  by  making  my  husband 
jealous  I 

Re-enter  Hos-e,  pushed  out  of  the  study  door,  b.  r. 

Rose.  Was  ever  such  madness  ! 

Mrs.  B.  Well,  Rose,  is  Mr.  Belmour  coming  ? 

Rose,  No,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  B.  Have  you  not  told  him  I  am  waiting  ? 

Rose.  Oh,  yes,  ma'am ;  I  told  him  often  enough,  and 
loud  enough. 

Mrs.B.  Well! 

Rose.  His  arms  crossed,  his  head  buried  up  to  his  ears 
in  his  shoulders,  his  eye  fixed  upon  the  Turkey  carpet,  he 
muttered  some  words  in  a  low  voice.  For  my  part,  I 
think  he  is  possessed,  and  that  it  was  the  devil  that  spoke 
within  him.  "My  mistress  is  arrived,"  says  I — not  a 
word.  "  She  is  waiting  for  you,"  says  I  again — still  si- 
lent, "  She  is  impatient  to  see  you,"  cried  I,  as  loud  as 
I  could  bawl  in  his  ear.  He  started  up,  looked  terribly 
angry,  seized  me  by  the  shoulders,  shook  the  breath  out 
of  my  body,  banged  me  out  of  the  room,  and  sat  down 
quietly  again  to  his  mathematics,  as  though  nothing  had 
happened. 

Mrs.  B.  This  is  too  much ! 

Rose.  I  am  sure,  ma'am,  my  master  is  crazed. 

Mrs.  B.  It  is  indeed  time  that  I  should  attempt  his 
cure.  [A  knocking  at  the  door. 


SCENE  I.]  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  15 

Rose.  Ah  !  somebody  knocks.  [Exit,  L* 

Mrs.  B.  It  is  my  sister. 

Re-enter  Rose,  gaily,  l. 

Rose.  La,  ma'am  !  here's  such  a  handsome  young  stran- 
ger asking  for  you,  and  impatient  to  see  you. 

Mrs.  B.  Show  him  in. 

Rose.  He  is  coming,  ma'am.  [^Looking  off,  i,.]  Well, 
how  genteel  he  is  ! 

Harriet.  [Sjjea/cing  without,  in  a  familiar  but  foppish 
tone  of  voice.']  Up  stairs  ? — Very  well ;  I'll  find  her ; 
don't  trouble  yourself,  friend. 

Mrs.  B.  Yes,  'tis  she  I 

Enter  Harriet,  in  men^s  clothes,  l. — She  approaches  to 
embrace  Mrs.  Belmour,  who  points  to  Rose — Harriet 
stops  suddenly,  and  affects  confusion  aud  mystery. 

Mrs.  B.   [After  a  pause.']   Leave  us.  Rose. 

Rose.  [Withotit  moving.']  Yes,  ma'am.  [Aside.]  Who 
can  it  be  ?     Now  I  shall  hear  emd  see  every  thing. 

Mrs.  B.  Leave  us,  I  say  ;  nor  return  to  the  drawing- 
room  till  I  call  you. 

Rose.  [Aside.]  Dear,  dear !  I  shall  hear  and  see  no- 
thing !  [Alotid.]  Yes,  ma'am.  [Aside.]  Oh,  I  see  it  all— 
my  poor  master  !  [Exit,  l. 

Mrs.  B.  At  length,  then,  you  are  here ;  my  heart  is 
happy  once  more  to  embrace  my  dear  Harriet ;  I  was  im- 
patient to  see  you. 

Har.  Your  impatience  could  not  exceed  mine:  seas 
have  divided  us  for  years.  I  am  an  old  campaigner,  but, 
tired  of  the  wars,  I  am  returned  with  joy  to  my  native 
country,  and  will  inhabit  no  place  which  is  not  occupied 
by  my  charming  sister. 

Mrs.  B.  Well,  then,  let  ns  to  our  project ;  time  presses. 

Har.  Oh,  I  am  quite  au  fait :  Percival  has  told  me 
your  case,  and  I  have  undertaken  the  cure.  A  husband 
dare  determine  not  to  be  jealous !  We'll  see — we'll  try 
him,  and  be  revenged !  To  be  so  indifferent  within  a  year 
after  marriage  !  it  makes  me  bum  with  indignation.  But 
first  tell  me — shall  I  do  ?  have  I  the  airs  and  graces  of  a 
pretty  fellow — of  such  a  fellow,  now,  as  one  of  the  thou- 
sand butterflies  who  flutter  round  married  women,  with  no 
hope  but  that  of  making  husbands  uncomfortable,  no  tri- 
iiraph  but  making  them  jealous, — without  any  other  mo- 
tive than  making  themselves  notorious,  and  often  without 
b2 


lb  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  [ACT  I. 

any  other  result  than  making  themselves  ridiculous  ?— 
Well,  d'ye  think  I  shall  do  ? 

Mrs.  B.  It  is  impossible  to  be  better :  the  more  I  exa- 
mine you,  the  more  I  doubt  if  I  am  really  speaking  to  my 
sister  Harriet. 

Har.  Let  the  enemy  appear,  then,  and  we  will  soon 
gain  the  victory.     Where  is  he  ? 

Mrs.  B.  As  usual,  in  his  study.     Ah  !  he  comes. 

Enter  'BELyiovRfrom  his  study,  n.  d.  f.,  with  a  paper  in 
his  hand,  which  he  is  reading — he  appears  animated 
with  pleasure  at  having  solved  the  problem,  and  passes 
be/ore  his  wife  and  Harriet  to  the  front,  without  see- 
ing them. 

Bel.  At  length  it  is  solved :  as  A  is  to  B,  so  is  B  to  C. 

Mrs.  B.  He  is  so  wrapped  up  in  his  mathematics,  that 
he  has  not  even  seen  us. 

Bel.  And  as  B  is  to  C,  so  is  the  square  of  A  K.  Yes, 
'tis  correct — quite  correct ! 

Mrs.  B.  [Advancing  with  Harriet  towards  Belmour.'] 
Mr  Belmour! 

Bel.  [Still  reading  the  paper.'\  Pardon  me,  my  dear 
Elizabeth  ;  I  really  did  not  perceive  you.  What  is  be- 
come of  Percival  ? 

Mrs.  B.  He  accompanied  me  home,-  but  departed  in- 
stantly. 

Bel.  Gone  !  without  his  problem !  I  hope  he  will  re- 
turn presently.  [  Contemplating  his  paper. '\  What  a  com- 
plete solution  ! — So  concise,  yet  so  clear  1 

Mrs.B.  [Apart  to  Harriet.^  His  brain  is  certainly  turned. 

Har.  What  a  happy  species  of  insanity  !  I  should  en- 
joy it  in  a  husband  of  mine  amazingly. 

Mrs.  B.  And  I  am  enraged  at  it. 

Har.  He  pays  me  no  more  attention  than  if  I  were  a 
piece  of  furniture.  [Advancing  and  bowing  to  Belmour.^ 
I  have  the  honour,  sir 

Mrs.  B.    [Apart  to  Harriet.']   A  little  louder. 

Har.  1  say,  sir,  I  have  the  honour  to  see 

Bel.  [Still  at  his  problem.'}  What  perception !  what 
perspicuity  1 

Har.  [Lavghing."]  Ha !  ha  1 — He  sees,  he  hears  no- 
thing !  It  was  thus,  I  suppose,  that  Archimedes  dreamed 
in  Syracuse,  while  Marcellus  took  the  city. 

Mrs.  B.  Think  rather  of  revenging  me,  thaa  laughing 
at  him. 


SCENE  l.J  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  17 

Har.  lApproaching  Behnour.']  Sir,  I  have  the  ho- 
nour  

Bel.    [Starting.']   Ah  !  a  stranger  ! 

Mrs.  B.  It  is  a  young  and  learned  relation  and  friend  of 
the  family ;  he  is  just  returned  from  his  travels,  and  I 
thought  you  would  be  delighted  to  know  him.  He  is 
come  to  England  expressly  to — to  renew  his  acquaintance 
with  me :  knowing  that,  like  yourself,  he  was  fond  of  li- 
terature and  science,  I  have  anticipated  your  wishes  by 
this  introduction. 

Bel.  So  young,  and  at  an  age  when  pleasure  forms  the 
general  object  of  pursuit,  does  your  friend  already  culti- 
vate and  cherish  the  nobler  arts  ? 

Mrs.  B.  Oh,  yes  ;  Hebrew,  Greek,  Algebra — everything. 

Bel.  'Tis  well :  he  is  your  friend — he  must  be  mine. 

[Offers  his  hand — Harriet  takes  Mrs.  Belmour'' s. 

Har.  [Kissing  Mi's.  Belmour' s  hand.]  Ah,  sir,  you 
must  permit  me,  on  the  hand  of  your  charming  lady,  to 
thank  her  for  her  unmerited  eulogy. 

Bel.  [Waiting  till  Harriet  has  done  kissing  Mrs.  Bel- 
mour's  hand,  which  she  does  several  times.^  Sir,  I  really 
beg  your  pardon,  but 

Har.  [With  a  careless,  /oppish  air.]  You  see  I  treat 
Elizabeth  without  any  ceremony.  Educated  together  un- 
der the  same  roof,  we  have  contracted  these  little  habits  of 
intimacy  ;  they  go  no  farther,  I  assure  you  ;  they  need 
not  make  you  uneasy — oh  dear,  no,  not  at  all ;  need  they, 
Elizabeth  ?  [Looking  and  smiling  at  Mrs.  Belmour,  who 
smiles  iu  return,  while  Belmour  gradually  assumes  an  ap- 
pearance of  surprise.]  Don't  you  observe  some  resem- 
blance  between  us — something  analogous  to  fraternity  .'^ 
It  is  sympathy,  all  sympathy,  I  assure  you — downright  le- 
gitimate sympathy.  In  .my  travels,  I  could  think  of  no- 
thing, amidst  the  variety  by  which  I  was  surrounded,  but 
Elizabeth  ;  my  tender  friendship  decorated  every  land- 
scape in  imagination  with  her  sylph-like  form.  [Mrs.  Bel- 
mour smiles.]  Ah  !  what  a  modest  blush  suffuses  her  lovely 
cheek  ! — What  a  charming  smile  plays  around  the  dim- 
ples of  her  lips  !  The  rose,  caressed  by  the  morning  ze- 
phyr, is  not  more  sweet,  more  fresh  1 

SONG.— Harriet. 

Nature,  with  her  fairy  finger. 

Never  gave  the  blushing  rose 
Tints  so  warm  as  those  which  linger 

Where  thy  lovely  cheeks  repo8e> 
B  3 


1^5  19  HE  JEALOUS?  [aCT  1. 

Toiling  slaves,  of  freedom  dreaming, 

Never  drew  from  eastern  mine 
Diamonds  lialf  so  briglitly  beaming, 

As  tiiose  sparkling  eyes  of  tliine. 

Mr».  li.   [CoquettiMy.']  Ah  !  now  you  flatter  me  t 

Bel.   \_Aside.'\   Am  I  awake  ? 

Har.  To  find  modesty  thus  united  with  beauty,  is  in- 
deed a  rarity.  Upon  my  faith,  I  see  London  is  the  place 
at  last  to  form  the  complete  woman ;  for,  without  compli- 
ment, I  find  you  amazingly  improved  since  you  have 
quitted  our  shades  of  rustic  retirement.  It  is  a  year,  I 
think,  since  we  were  used  to  wander  through  the  groves,  to 
listen  to  the  tender  nightingale  ;  yes,  a  year  since,  when, 
enraged  at  your  departure,  I  quitted  home  within  an  hour 
after  you  left  the  village.  Your  absence  deprived  it  of 
every  attraction.  Since  that  period,  I  have  trod  upon 
classic  ground ;  contemplated  the  triumphal  arches  of 
Roman  conquerors,  and  wept  upon  the  tomb  of  Virgil ; 
marched  with  a  bounding  heart  over  the  plains  of  Marathon, 
and  pondered  with  a  bleeding  one  upon  the  rock  so  fatal  to 
the  tender  Sappho.  The  capitals  of  Europe  have,  by  turns, 
been  my  residence  ;  men  of  literature,  and  women  of  beauty 
and  wit,  have  been  my  companions  ;  but  I  have  traversed 
the  world  in  vain  to  find  so  many  charms  and  delights  as 
are  concentrated  here. 

Bel.  Since  London,  sir,  possesses  your -favourable  opi- 
nion, perhaps  it  is  your  intention  to  settle  among  us,   sir. 

Har.  A  good  guess — my  project  exactly.  I  never  more 
shall  quit  the  spot  inhabited  by  Mrs.  Belmour. 

[Smiles  with  Mrs.  Belmour. 

Bel.    [Aside.li    What  does  he  mean  ?     Is  this  inexpe- 
rience or  folly,  or  merely  an  assumption  of  the  levity  of 
foreign  manners  ?     I   begin  not  to  like  him.    [Calling ' 
Rose ! 

Enter  Rose,  running,  l. 

Order  the  breakfast. 

Rose.  It  is  coming,  sir. 

Bel.  [To  Harriet. '\  You  will,  I  trust,  favour  our  break- 
fast-table with  your  company? 

Har.  [Giving  his  hat  and  gloves  to  Rose.']  To  be  sure  I 
shall.     Did  you  think  I  would  not  breakfast  with  you  ? 

Rose.   [Aside.]   Free  and  easy,  however. 

Enter  Servants,  l. — they  lay  the  hredkfast. 
Har.  By  the  bye,  I  intend  taking  up  my  quarters  in  town, 


■CENE  I.]  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  19 

at  your  friend  Percival's  ;  but  really  it  is  so  crowded  with 
Venuses,  Apollos,  Egyptian  mummies,  cauldrons,  crucibles, 
and  electrifying  machines,  that  I  fear  there  will  be  no  room 
for  me.  I  shall  dread  receiving  an  electric  shock  at  the 
touch  of  every  bell-pull,  and  shall  expect  to  be  embraced 
at  every  turn,  by  some  of  his  spring-moving  anatomies. 
So  that,  [^Witk  nonchalance.']  if  quite  convenient,  I  shall 
be  vastly  happy  to — take  up — my — residence  with — you — 
during  my  stay  in  town.  \A  pause.']  Eh  !  Mis — ter  Bel— ^ 
mour  ? 

Bel.  [Aside,  but  heard  by  Rose.']  What!  make  my  house 
his  home  ? 

Rose.  Lord,  sir,  there's  no  doubt  of  that.  His  carriage 
is  already  in  the  coach-house,  liis  horses  in  the  stable,  and 
his  servants  in  the  attics. 

Mrs.  B.  [Apart  to  Harriet.]  To  the  life,  my  dear  sis- 
ter, to  the  life ! 

Bel.  [Aside.]  Ah,  they  whisper  ! — What  new  feeding  is 
this  ?  [Aloud.]  Come,  my  love,  the  breakfast  waits  ;  your 
friend  must  need  refreshment. 

[Mr.  Belmour  presents  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Belmour— 
Harriet  does  the  same — Mrs.  Belmour  hesitates, 
and  then  takes  Harriet's — Belmour  starts  with  suv 
prise,  and  attempts  to  take  a  chair,  which  Har- 
riet draws  from  him. 

Har.  [Seating  Mrs.  Belmour,  and  taking  her  own  seat  at 
the  head  of  the  table.]  Come,  Belmour — excuse  my  calling 
you  Belmour ;  come,  sit  down.  [Belmour  sits — Harriet 
makes  the  tea — his  surprise  iiicreases.]  Now,  sir,  black  or 
green  ?  Mrs.  Belmour,  chocolate  or  coffee  ?  Lord,  you 
have  no  appetite,  sir.  You  appear  thoughtful,  my  lovely 
^riend. 

Mrs.  B.  I  was  thinking  of  the  possibility  of  making  your 
intended  apartment  agreeable. 

Bel.  [Ironically.]  Really !  Had  your  friend  done  me 
the  honour  to  advise  me  of  his  intended  visit,  I  should  have 
done  my  best  endeavours  to  have  accommodated  him ;  but 
as  it  is— 

Har.  Oh,  never  mind — never  mind ;  you  will  not  find 
me  over  scrupulous.  The  humblest  apartment — [To  Mrs. 
Belmour.] — near  to  you,  madam,  will  be  delightful;  now 
that,  for  instance,  or  that,  or  the  blue  room. 

Bel.  [Aside.]  Upon  my  word,  he  disposes  of  my  house 
AS  though  it  were  his  own. 

Mrs.  B.  You  are  amazingly  good. 


20  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  [aCT  1. 

Rose.    [Aside.']   Amazingly  '. 

Mrs.  B.  Will  you  indulge  us  with  your  society  long  ? 

Bel.   [Aside.']   Oh,  no  doubt ! 

Har.  Upon  my  honour,  madam,  my  hopes  of  pleasure, 
■while  domesticated  with  you,  are  so  great,  that,  with  your 
permission,  we  will  not  anticipate  a  separation. 

Rose.   [Aside.]   Lord  help  us  !  what  impudence  ! 

Bel.  [Aside,  But  you  are  not  yet  domesticated,  thank 
heaven ! 

Har.  Then  I  shall,  for  the  future,  make  your  house  my 
home ;  give  my  cards  of  address  here ;  order  my  parcels  to 
be  diiected  here ;  dine  my  friends  here,  and  all  that. — 
Upon  my  word,  Belmour,  you  have  such  a  way  of  putting 
one  at  one's  ease,  that  I  am  as  much  at  home  already,  as 
though  I  had  been  living  here  these  twenty  years. 

Bel.   [Aside.]   Astonishing  impertinence  ! 

Rose.  [Aside.]  Oh,  it  is  a  settled  thing ;  my  mistress  is 
in  the  plot — 1  see  it  all  1 

Mrs.  B.  Come,  sir,  you  are  a  great  voyager,  and  have 
doubtless  seen  many  things  worthy  of  observation. 

Har.  Yes,  madam,  I  have  indeed  seen  much.  In  every 
country  I  have  associated  with  the  philosopher,  as  well  as 
the  courtier ;  made  love  to  the  women,  and  raked  with  the 
men  ;  danced  fandangos  with  the  Spaniards,  waltzed  with 
the  Germans,  and  cotillionized  with  the  French ;  and,  at 
,the  end  of  a  long  and  perilous  pilgrimage  in  the  pursuit  of 
philosophy,  I  find  that  its  best  source  is  pleasure — that  the 
best  pleasure  is  woman  ;  and  if  you  wUl  listen  to  my  dull 
finger  on  the  piano,  and  my  croaking  voice  will  not  disturb 
the  meditations  of  Mr.  Belmour,  you  shall  hear  my  senti- 
ments in  a  song. 

Mrs.B.  Oh,  by  all  means.  [Goes  to  the  piano  with  Harriet. 

Har.  [After  playing  a  prelude.]  Were  my  tongue  to 
describe  the  sensations  of  my  heart  at  the  sound  of  this 
piano,  it  would  say  they  arose  because  the  keys  were  some- 
times touched  by  the  fair  hand  of  Elizabeth. 

Mrs.  B.  I  play  but  little. 

[She  seats  herself  by  the  side  of  Harriet — Belmour, 
who  has  been  lost  in  thought,  looks  up,  and  cp- 
pears  troubled. 

SONG.— Harriet.  * 

With  study  to  fill  up  our  leisure. 

Let  ancient  philosophers  preach; 
Tis  better  to  hll  it  with  pleasure, 

Both  nature  and  sympathy  teach. 


8CBNB  I.J  18  HE  JEALOUS  ?  21 

Believe  me,  the  man  is  mistaken, 

Who  in  books  only  finds  his  delight 
No  study  to  pleasure  can  waken 

Like  studying  eyes  that  are  bright. 

If  by  physiognomy  learning. 

The  mind  through  the  features  to  tracC^ 

Grave  brows  of  philosophers  spurning, 
I'd  study  in  woman's  sweet  face. 

If  astronomy's  wonders  had  charms,  sir. 

My  stars  shouldn't  be  in  the  sky; 
My  Zodiac  would  be  in  her  arms,  sir, 

ily  planets  would  beam  in  her  eye. 

Mrs.B.  Delightful! 

Rose.  [Aside.']  Ah,  my  mistress  is  pleased,  and  my 
master  is  enraged. 

Mrs.  B.  The  verses,  too,  are  delightful! 

Rose.  [Aside.]  My  master  thinks  otherwise:  he'll  be 
jealous  at  last,  thank  heaven  ! 

[Exit  with  breaJcfast  things,  l. 

Har.  I  am  proud  indeed  of  your  approbation  ;  and  if  you 
will  deign  to  assist  me  in  my  studies,  I  think  I  shall  soon 
defy  even  Mr.  Belmour  himself  to  suppass  me. 

Mrs.  B.  There  are  many  learned  men  whom  I  consider 
estimable  ;  but  if  they  resemble  you,  they  would  indeed  be 
irresistible. 

Bel.  [Aside,  starting.]  Ah,  that  observation  was  directed 
at  me  I     By  heavens,  she  laughs  at  me  1 

Har.  Mr.  Belmour  is  ill,  I  fear ;  he  appears  agitated. 

Bel.  [With  emotion.]  Agitated!  Oh,  no — no,  sir:  it 
is  impossible  to  be  otherwise  than  agitated  agreeably,  sir, 
in  your  society. 

Mrs.  B.  Oh,  no  ;  it  is  his  manner  only :  Mr.  Belmour 
is  generally  so  wrapped  up  in  study,  that  outward  objects 
are  indifferent  to  him.  He  pursues  the  speculations  of 
his  own  mind  in  society,  and —  [Anxiously  to  Belmour.] 
But  you  appear  really  ill,  Mr.  Belmour:  perhaps — [In- 
quiritigly .]   perhaps  you  are  jealous  .' 

Bel.  Jealous  1  I  jealous,  madam  ?  What,  of  a  boy — of 
a  boy  ?     No,  no,  madam  ! 

Mrs.  B.  [Coldly  and  disappointed.]  A  boy !  Oh,  in 
modern  days,  manhood  commences  early.  Look  through 
society,  who  are  our  greatest  libertines  ?  Your  boys  !  Who 
are  the  danglers  after  your  demireps  of  fashion?  Your  boys  ? 
But,  perhaps,  [Anxiously.]  you  may  have  an  objection  to 
extend  your  hospitality  so  far  as  to  admit  my  friend  as  an 
inmate. 


22  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  [aCT  I. 

Bel.  lAside.'}  I  must  hide  these  feelings,  and  appear 
tranquil.  [Aloud.}  Oh,  no,  madam,  quite  the  contrary ;  I 
Bhall  be  happy — very — ha — happy  in  his  society. 

Mrs.  B.  [To  Harriet,  disappointedly ."l  Ah,  he  consents 
to  it. 

Har.  So  much  the  better. 

Mrs.  B.  But  he  is  not  jealous. 

Har.  Hush  !  he  observes  us. 

Bel.  [Aside.']  Yes,  yes,  'tis  plain :  there  is  some  mys- 
tery,  some  plot,  some — surely  I'm  not  jealous  I 

Har.  [2'o  Mrs.  Belmour.]  He  begins  to  be  uneasy ;  I 
see  the  first  symptoms. 

Bel.   [Aside.]   And  I  am  to  admit  him  as  an  inmate,  too  ! 

Har.  [To  Mrs.  Belmour.']  Courage!  The  symptoms 
redouble  ;  he  talks  to  himself. 

Bel.  [Aside.]  I  must  be  satisfied ;  I  will  interrogate 
Percival.  [Aloud.]  You  have  known  my  friend  Percival 
for  some  time  ? 

Har.  Oh,  yes,  from  infancy. 

Bel.  He  conducted  you  here  ? 

Har.  Oh,  no ;  he  was  to  much  immersed  in  some  phi- 
losophical experiment — the  decomposition  of  s'bme  mineral 
fluid.  By  the  by — I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons,  but  he  de- 
sired me  to  say,  that  he  was  anxiously  waiting  your  assist- 
ance in  the  solution  of  some  problem  :  you  had  better  go. 

Bel.  Yes,  true.  You  say  he  expects  me  ?  I  will  go. 
[Aside.]   Shall  I  leave  them  together  ? 

Mrs.  B.  You  will  not  be  very  long,  I  suppose,  Mr. 
Belmour .' 

Bel.  [Aside.']  Ah  I  she  wishes  me  gone  :  she  wants  to 
ascertain  the  moment  of  my  return  ;  but  I  am  not  jealous  I 
[Aloud.]   Perhaps  you  will  accompany  me,  sir  ? 

[Anxiously  trying  to  take  Harriet  with  him, 

Har.  No,  no,  I  am  obliged  to  you ;  I  am  vastly  well 
here — use  no  ceremony  with  me,  I  beg.  Your  Elizabeth 
will  find  me  entertainment ;  you'd  better  go  ;  don't  let  me 
detain  you  from  your  friend.  • 

Bel.  [Aside.]  Impudence ! — Elizabeth  1 — But  I  am  not 
jealous  !  Yes,  I  will  go,  but  will  return  and  surprise 
them.  [Aloud.]  Your  pardon  for  lea\'ing  you,  but — 
[Aside.]  Jealous  ! — Ridiculous  ! — Yet  'tis  very  odd,  all 
this ! 

Har.  Oh,  never  mind — good  morning !  You  had  bet- 
ter make  haste,  or  the  fluid  will  be  decomposed,  and  the 
experiment  over  before  your  arrival.     Good  morning. 


SCENE  I.]  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  '  23 

Bel.   [Aside.}  The  coxcomb  turns  me  out  of  my  own 

house  ! — I  am  thunderstruck  ! — But  iis  to  jeeilousy,  that's 

too  absurd  an  idea.     Psha  !  nonsense  ! — I  am  not  jealous  I 

[Exit  L.,  but  returns  in  a  minute,  and  looks  at  Har- 

riet  and  Mrs.  Belmour. 

Har.  Weill 

Bel.  WeUl 

Mrs.  B.  Are  you  come  back  for  any  thing  ? 

Bel.  Yes  ;  I  am  come  back  for — I  am  come  back— 
[Aside.']   I  am  not  jealous  !  [Exit,  hastily,  u. 

Mrs.  B.  You  see  it  is  of  no  use  :  he  departs — he  leaves 
us  together  !  Such  coldness,  such  indifference  irritates 
me  more  than  I  can  express.  After  having  absolutely 
roused  his  suspicions,  to  leave  ns  thus  t6te-a-t<jte  is  un- 
bearable ! 

Har.  Curious  enough,  to  be  sure !  There  are  many 
women,  I  fear,  who  would  be  delighted  with  so  easy  a  hus- 
band. 

Mrs.  B.  'Tis  plain  he  loves  me  not. 

Har.  I  am  not  so  certain  of  that  yet. 

Mrs.  B.  What  more  can  I  do  to  prove  it  ? 

Har.  Stop !  an  idea  strikes  me  :  if  I  recollect  right, 
your  boudoir  is  so  sacred  to  yoxu-self,  that  even  he  is  sel- 
dom admitted. 

Mrs.B.  True. 

Har.  We  will  enter  it,  and  remain  there  tiu  nis  return. 
If  that  does  not  rouse  his  jealousy,  he  is  incorrigible,  and 
I  give  him  up. 

Mrs.  B.  [Alarmed.]  I  fear  we  shall  go  too  fai 

Har.  'Tis  desperate,  but  the  only  means  left ;  and,  the 
better  to  deceive  him,  we  will  bribe  your  servant. 

Mrs.  B.  I  tremble  1 

Har.  Nonsense  I  it  must  be  done ;  [Looking  off,  l.] 
and  I  see  Rose  coming. 

[Harriet  kisses  Mrs.  Belmour's  hand  ardently. 

Enter  Rose,  l.,  and  goes  up. 

Har.  Oh,  how  sweet  are  such  moments  as  these  '.  They 
ve  worth  the  rest  of  our  lives  ! 

Rose.   [Aside.]   Can  I  believe  my  eyes  ? 

Har.  [Feigning  surprise.]  Ah  I  we  are  observed  I  So 
much  the  better.     Now  place  her  quickly  as  a  sentineL 

Mrs.  B.   [Hesitating.]   Rose  ! 

Hose.   [Coming forward.]  Ma — a — ml 

Urs.B.   [Still  hesitating.]  Rose  I 


24  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  [aCT  I. 

Har.  Come,  come,  courage  ! 

Mrs.  B.  Is  Mr.  Belmour  gone  out.  Rose  ? 

Hose,  Oh,  yes,  ma'am  ;  he  is  already  in  the  next  street. 
He  went  out  in  such  haste,  he  forgot  to  take  off  his  dress- 
ing gown.    \Aside.'\   What  can  all  this  mean  ? 

Mrs.  B.  Do  you  think  he  will  be  long  absent  ? 

Rose.  No  doubt,  ma'am :  he  is  gone  about  his  philo- 
sophy business. 

Mrs.  B.  True,  true.  Rose ;  I  know  yoxur  prudence  ;  I 
can  depend  on  your  fidelity. 

Rose.  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  that  you  may.  [Aside,']  I  do 
see  it  all  now. 

Mrs.  B.  I  know  it,  dear  Rose. 

Rose.   [Aside.']   Dear  Rose  1     Oh,  I  can  be  useful  here  I 

Mrs.  B.  My  friend  wishes  much  to  see  the  drawings, 
which  he  well  remembers  to  have  made  when  we  were  chil- 
dren :   they  are  in  the  boudoir. 

Rose.   [Aside.]  The  boudoir !   [Aloud.]  Yes,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  B.  I  wish  to  show  them  to  him  without — without 
the  danger  of  interruption. 

Rose.  Yes,  ma'am.   [Aside.]   Oh,  lord  I  I  see  it  all ! 

Mrs.  B.  You,  my  good  Rose,  stay  here,  and  prevent 
any  body  from — from 

Har.  You  understand,  my  good  Rose.  Now,  mind, 
guard  your  post  well ;  be  vigilant,  and,  above  all,  be  dis- 
creet. [Gives  her  a  purse. 

Rose.  Yes,  yes,  sir.  [Aside.]  "Well,  was  ever — [Aloud.] 
But  my  master,  madam,  should  he  return 

Mrs.  B.  Your  master  I 

Har.  Detain  him  here :  we  would  not  be  interrupted 
for  the  world  by  him  ;  that  would  be  vastly  unpleasant ! 

Rose.   [Aside.]   Well,  I  am  absolutely  astounded  1 

Har.  Now,  my  lovely  Elizabeth,  the  pictures  ! 

[Exeunt  Harriet  and  Mrs.  Belmour  into  the  boudoir, 

L.  D.  F. 

Rose.  His  lovely  Elizabeth ! — Lord !  lord  ! — ^Well,  I 
never  was  so  surprised !  —  Lord !  I  do  believe  they've 
locked  the  door  !  Oh,  'tis  plain — 'tis  clear !  Poor  Mr. 
Belmour !  poor  Mr.  Philosopher ! — Well,  I  can  scarcely 
believe  my  eyes,  nor  my  ears,  nor  my  tongue.  [Looking 
off,  L.]  Eh  I  what's  that  ?  who  is  coming  ? — My  master, 
as  I'm  alive  ! — I  shall  die  of  fright ! 

Re-enter  Belmour,  extremely  agitated,  h. 
Bel.  Known  and  loved  each  other  from  infancy  1 — Ten- 


SCENE  I.J  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  25 

demess  unabated  1 — Constancy  unequalled  ! — ^Would  not 
introduce  him  himself,  and  coming  to  put  me  on  my 
guard  ! 

Eose.   [Aside."]  What  do  I  hear  ? 

Bel.  Yes,  yes,  'tis  evident  he  is  still  beloved — that  I  am 
deceived  !  Oh,  agonies  till  now  unknown  ! — What  shall  I 
do  ?  where  fly  ?  how  revenge  ? — I'll  smother  him  I  [Call- 
iriff.'}   Rose  1  Rose  I 

Rose.  Here,  sir.   [Aside.']   Lord!  I'm  in  such  a  tremble  I 

Bel.  Cbme  near  ;   [Passionately/.]   come  near,  I  say  1 

Rose.   [Tremblingi.]  Ye — e — es,  sir. 

Bel.  Where  is  your  mistress  ? 

Rose.  [Hesitatingly.]  Who — o— o — o,  sir  ? — My  mis— 
is — tress,  sir? 

Bel.  Answes  me  instantly — where  is  she  ? 

Rose.  She  is,  sir — she  is,  sir — in  the  bou — ^bou — bou- 
doir, sir. 

Bel.   [Approaching  the  door,  l.  f.]  Ah  ! 

Rose.  [Stopping  him.]  Sir,  my  mistress,  sir — my  mis- 
tress  

Bel.  WeUl 

Rose.  Desired  not  to  be  interrupted,  sir. 

Bel.  Ah  !  a  mystery  !  —  And  this  friend — this  new 
comer,  where  is  he  ?  [Passionately.]  Where  is  this  cox- 
comb, I  say  ? 

Rose.  Coc — oc — oc — oc — xcomb,  sir  ! 

Bel.  Your  mistress's  new  friend — my  would-be  visitor ; 
where  is  he  ? — Answer  me,  or 

Rose.  [Terrified.]  I  will — I  will,  sir ;  but  I'm  afraid 
you'll  be  angry,  sir. 

Bel.  [Restraining  himself  with  difficulty.]  No,  no,  I 
am  quite — quite  cool.     Speak,  speak  1 

Rose.  He  is — with  my  lady,  sir. 
.  Bel.   [Almost  breathless.]  What  1    in  the  bou — bou— 
boudoir  ? 

Rose.  Ye — e — s,  sir. 

Bel.  Incredible  audacity!  But  I  will  confound  them. 
[Going  to  the  boudoir  door.]  Ah !  the  door  locked ! — 
This  is  too  much  :  heaven  grant  me  patience  1  Stand 
aside — stand  aside,  I  say  I — I  will  enter. 

[Pushes  Rose  aside,  then  rushes  to  the  door,  which 
opens,  and  discovers  Mrs.  Belmour  and  Harriet, 
who  re-enter — Belmour  starts,  and  regards  them 
with  fury. 

Mrs.  £.  Ah  I  my  husband  I     Fly,  my  friend  1 


26  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  [act  I. 

Har.  [With  nonchalance.']  Fly! — \\Tiat,  run  away?— 
No,  no  :   his  presence  is  not  quite  so  redoubtable. 

Bel.  He  adds  insult  to  outrage  I 

Rose.  For  heaven's  sake,  leave  her,  sir  1 — His  anger 
will  drive  him  to  some  act  of  violence. 

Har.  Oh,  never  fear :  this  is  not  the  first  time  I  have 
had  to  encounter  a  jealous  husband. 

Rose.   [Aside.']  There'll  be  murder — I  see  it  all ! 

Bel.  Quit  the  house,  sir,  instantly !  quit  th«r  roof  whose 
hospitality  you  have  violated  !  I  shall  seek  you  at  Perci- 
val's,  and  you  know  what  must  follow. 

Har.  What,  quit  Elizabeth ! — No,  no  ;  you  will  ill- 
treat  her  :  besides,  why  should  you  be  so  unreasonable  as 
to  separate  us  ? 

Rose.  [Aside.]  Lord  I  I  tremble  with  fright  at  his  im- 
pudence ! 

Bel.  Quit  the  house  instantlyj  that  my  own  floors  may 
not  be  stained  with  the  blood  my  vengeance  calls  for  ! 

Har.  Well,  since  you  are  at  present  a  little  warm 

Bel.  A  little  warm  !  [Aside.]  A  little  devil !  [Aloud.] 
Quit  my  sight — quit  my  sight,  I  say  !  lest  my  house  prove 
no  longer  a  protection  to  its  inmate. 

Har.  Don't  go  too  far,  Mr.  Belraour. 

Rose.  [Dragging  off  Harriet .]  Oh,  come,  sir ;  for  hea- 
ven's sake,  leave  him  ! — He  is  jealous. 

[She  continues  to  draw  Harriet  off  during  the  foU 
lowing  trio, 

TRIO. — Harriet,  Rose,  and  Belhouk. 

Har.  Poor  man,  he  is  jealous  at  last ! 

Bel.  With  fury  my  bosom's  enraged. 

Jiar.  I'll  return  when  your  anger  is  pass'd: 
Mrs.  B.,  you'll  be  then  disengag'd. 

Har.  fy-i  Ha!  ha!  ha! 

JRose.  J  Poor  man,  he  is  jealous  at  last  I 

Bel.  1  shall  murder  the  fellow  at  last ! 

Bel.  Quit  my  sight— let  me  see  him  no  longer ! 

Har,  Dearest  madam,  pray  pinion  him  faat. 

Bel.  Than  reason  my  passion  is  stronger. 

Har.  Poor  man,  be  is  jealous  at  last ! 

Har.  fy  ■»  Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Hose.  J     Poor  man,  be  is  jealous  at  last ! 
Bel.  I  shall  murder  the  fellow  at  last  I 

Bar%  Ah  !  now  should  you  tell  us 

You'll  never  be  jealous. 

Such  principles  we  will  refute; 
For  evil's  the  hour 
When  man  dares  the  power 

Of  woman  supreme  to  dispute  * 


.    SCENE  I.J  IS  ME  JEALOUS?  9J 

Bel.  Quit  my  sight— let  me  see  him  no  longer! 

Hur,  Dearest  madam,  pray  pinion  him  fast 

Bel.  Than  reason  my  passion  is  stronger. 

Hur.  Poor  man,  he  is  jealous  at  last ! 

Kar.  It  \  Ha  I  ha  !  ha  ! 

Rose.  1      Poor  man,  he  is  jealous  at  last! 
Bel.  I  shall  murder  the  fellow  at  last ! 

[Exeunt  Rose  and  Harriet,  k. — Belmour  falh  into 
G  chair, 

Mrs.  B.  [Aside."]  Ah,  I  triumph ! — My  douhts  of  his 
love  are  dissipated.  He  is  enraged,  and  I  begin  to  be 
happy.   [Turning  to  her  htisband.j   Belmour 

Bel.  [Risinff.]  Speak  not  a  word  1 — Adieu,  adieu,  for 
ever!  [Goinff. 

Mrs.  B.  Will  you  not  listen  to  me  ?  One  word  will 
restore  you  to  tranquillity :  you  are  deceived  1 

Bel.  Deceived  ! — True  ;  I  am  deceived — wretchedly, 
miserably  deceived  ! — But  I  will  be  revenged  ! — Leave  me, 
madam  !  quit  my  sight  for  ever  1  Your  minion  paramour 
shall  pay  with  his  life  the  forfeit  of  your  mutual  guilt ; 
while  you  shall  linger  on  your  miserable  existence  despised 
by  all,  an  outcas't  from  society  I 

Mrs.  B.  Nay,  nay,  whence  comes  this  blind  ungovern- 
able fury  .'—Where  i6  your  philosophy .' 

Bel.  [After  a  pause,  in  an  agony  of-  passion."]  I  am 
jealous ! 

Mrs.  B.   [Joyfully.']  Then  I  am  loved  and  happy  I 

Bel.  Happy ! 

Mrs.  B.  Yes,  Belmour :  did  your  know  the  happiness 
these  transports  occasion  me,  you  would  have  been  jealous 
long — long  before. 

Bel.  Yes,  madam,  but  I  was  deceived  by  your  appear- 
ances of  virtue — deluded  by  your  expressions  of  affection. 
But  I  have  discovered  all :  this  friend,  this  cousin — (the 
devil  cozen  him  !) — was  always  beloved  by  you — always 
preferred  :  opportunity  Wcis  only  wanting  to  complete  my 
dishonour  1  But  vengeance  shall  fall  upon  the  devoted 
bead 

Re-enter  Harriet,  in  an  elegant  satin  dress,  and  Rose,  b. 

Har.  Of  your  humble  servant,  I  suppose. 

Bel.  What  do  I  see  .' 

Mrs.  B.  My  sister  Harriet,  whom  you  have  often  wished 
as  a  companion  to  your  Elizabeth.  Can  you  forgive  me 
the  deceit  ?  [They  all  laugh  at  Belmour. 

Bel,  A  woman — a  real  woman  ? 


29  IS  HE  JEALOUS?  [aCT  I. 

Har.  Yes,  sir,  a  true  woman,  upon  my  honour. 

Rose.  I  answer  for  that,  sir, 

Har.  I  suppose  you  will  now  consent  a  little  mor« 
cheerfully  to  my  abode  here.  'Twas  but  a  ruse  de  mar- 
riage, to  revenge  my  sister  for  your  indifference :  let  it  be 
a  lesson  for  you  not  to  defy  the  power  of  our  sex  to  make 
even  a  philosopher  jealous. 

Bel.  I  see  it  is  not  enough  to  love — we  must  also  show 
our  affection.  Like  other  philosophers,  I  confess  your 
fascinating  power ;  but  beware  how  you  use  it  wantonly, 
lest  the  heart  which  you  would  only  bend  should  break. 


FINALE. 

Mrs.  Belmour,  Harriet,  and  Rose. 

Then  learn  ye  from  this,  each  indifferent  spouse^ 

'Tis  in  vain  of  your  passion  to  tell  us  ; 
We  ne'er  can  believe  in  the  truth  of  your  vows. 

If  our  charms  cannot  render  you  jealous. 

Belmour. 

Then  learn  ye  from  this,  each  indifferent  spoui% 

What  the  women  determine  to  tell  us ; 
They  rie'er  can  believe  in  the  truth  of  our  vows. 

If  their  charms  cannot  render  us  jealous. 

DISPOSITION  OF  THE  CHARACTERS  AT  THE 
FALL  OF  THE  CURTAIN. 

Harriet.  Mrs.  B.  Bel.  Rose. 

>•]  [I. 


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